


WTPresent

by Lunahras



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caffeine Abuse, Domestic Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exploitation of an Amnesiac, Heavy Angst, I DO NOT WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT REAL PEOPLE, Inaccurate hacking, Loss of Control, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Multi, NONE OF THE CHARACTERS DEPICTD BELOW ARE THE ACTUAL PEOPLE BEHIND THEM, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Self-Indulgent Worldbuilding, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Burn, Time Travel, WTFuture, and theyrealso on two different teams less yay, anger issues, btw hi im new to the fandom and have developped an unhealthy obsession, but lets not romanticise them, future boys are stuck in the past yay, hey kids abusive relationships are a thing for plot, i have no idea what im doing this was very spontaneous, not really addiction it just enables workaholic tendencies, oh right also, present time ships are a WIP, so i decided to cover my bases, there i tagged the ships, this seems to be a sore spot in the fandom, tho the tags seem kinda misleading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-05-21 23:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 55,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunahras/pseuds/Lunahras
Summary: (And Other Word Games That Just Don't Work Please Stop Trying So Hard)They really shouldn't have let Matt (either of them) handle the time machine. Or the backup time machine. Now the three time travelers maaaaay or may not be stuck about 15 years before their time with their younger counterparts.---Thomas stared at the glass, feeling a certain disconnect. They were having a civil conversation, no threats, no violence, no underlying tension. He was living in a house with Matthew and Edward and all their past selves.There was no army.There were no sides.What the fuck was his life?





	1. Time Machine? What Time Machine?

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, see this is what happens when you give me a perfectly funny cartoon, add a smidgen of plot, a hell of a lot of headcanons and me being so absolutely stressed that i needed to vent by having fictional characters yell at each other
> 
> aaaaall the angst, all of it. this is so beyond au and far away from the original atmosphere its not even funny. haha you know because it literally isnt funny but so terribly angsty instead? ...ill shut up now

“Matt...” Tom almost growled out, virtual green eyes narrowed, making the ginger flinch just a tad, “Matt, where's the machine?”

The other man cleared his throat, stalling for time, “Ah, well, you see...”

“It's broken!” replied an identical, albeit younger ginger, and rather sullenly at that, “I took over the world and then you had to go and undo it! And even break my precious ticket to success on top of that!” he yelled accusingly.

His older counterpart snapped his head up with a nasty glare, “ _I_ broke it? You threw it up in the air!”

“And you didn't catch it! I thought it was important enough that you'd manage to catch it!”

Older Matt, once again sporting a mechanical eye and metal jaw, which admittedly made for quite the intimidating impression, seemed just about to snap and wring the younger man's neck, who didn't seem too far from resorting to violence himself. They were both snapped out of it, however, by a sudden, borderline hysterical laugh.

“PfahahHAHAHAHA! Really? _Really_? You finally manage to capture me for your _precious_ leader and then you both manage to lose our only way back?! That's...” the bearded man shook his head, trying to get his laughter under control, “Hah, hehe, that's just typica- Ugh!”

He doubled over from a harsh kick to his midsection, but refused to show weakness, looking up and right into Tom's visor with a wretched grin, teeth stained red with blood.

“Classic _stupid_ Tom, eh?”

Fists clenched, Tom snarled, “Shut up. You don't get to use that phrase. Besides, I'm not the one who-” Tom seemed to come back to the problem at hand, turning back to the two Matts who had been watching the altercation quietly, one blankly while the other was visibly uncomfortable, “Who broke the stupid time machine!”

The younger redhead flinched, not quite used to this older Tom. There was a certain aggression in his stance, a promise of violence tightly coiled under his skin, and a razor's edge to his voice that swore rather than threatened.

Edd and Tom, the younger versions that is, looked on at the spectacle with thinly veiled apprehension. The way these people acted, it seemed nothing like the image they had of themselves. Why was Matt so tired? Why was Tom so angry? And why was Edd so _beaten_? A myriad of thoughts and questions swirled around in their heads, but they could only watch.

Future Matt, on the other hand, simply ran a hand down his face tiredly, pointedly not touching his metal bits. He then turned his now exhausted glare to Edd, on his knees with his arms tied behind his back, still somewhat hunched over from the pain.

“This wouldn't have happened in the first place if you hadn't gone and stolen that first time machine. What did you think was going to happen, Edd? What were you trying to accomplish with this- this stupid little trip?”

Edd glared right back, bitter amusement long gone, “Oh, I'm sorry if I didn't make that clear when I _tried to kill my younger self_ .” he ground out. “Do you want me to spell it out for you, Matt? Hm? Would you like the whole rundown on my suicidal tendencies? Oh, how about I compile my downwards spiral into depression chronologically! _Would that be enough for you?_ ”

It was Future Matt's turn to look visibly uncomfortable, though he covered it up with a blank, apathetic mask almost immediately. “Whatever.” he muttered and sighed, shoulders sagging as if holding up a great weight. He turned to Tom, whose display had begun to tick at being ignored. “Well, there's no time machine now. What do we do, General?”

Tom sighed in aggravation, “Lieutenant General, Matt.”

Matt rolled his eyes, yes both of them, “Oh please, the only thing keeping you from that promotion is Red Leader's petty grudge for-”

“And I don't really know what to do.” Tom continued blithely. “We had a time machine to recover another and we somehow lost both.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don't even know how to report this so we don't immediately get the boot when we get back.”

Edd, because apparently he felt extra snarky today, interjected, “Well look on the bright side. Can't get discharged from an army that doesn't exist yet.”

Tom shot him a nasty glare before scowling at the ground, “Shit, we don't even know where his early bases were. Are. Ugh, I hate time travel.”

“So,” a voice spoke up, and all three time travelers snapped their attention towards this timeline's Edd, flanked by his respective Tom and Matt, “uh, does this mean you guys are stuck here?”

Future Tom and Matt exchanged a look, while Edd's gaze remained on his past self with an indecipherable frown.

“Well,” Tom finally drawled, tearing himself away from the silent argument he'd been having with Matt, “yeah, pretty much. For now, at least.”

“Until we find a way to get back to our timeline.” Matt added, “And drag this idiot back along with us.” he muttered, almost as an afterthought, earning him a nasty but somewhat nervous look from Edd kneeling on the ground in front of him.

Younger Edd, unnerved by their dynamics but unwilling to show it, simply nodded. “Well, uh... you _are_ our future selves, and since no one's tried to kill us in the last hour or so, I guess... you _could_ stay with us?”

“WHAT?” younger Tom exclaimed, holding his poor, broken Susan closer to his chest. “Edd, you can't just invite them in! That guy tried to kill you! _Several times_!”

Matt rubbed his neck for a moment, “Yeah, Edd, I don't... know about this either.”

Edd just shrugged, “I mean, you guys have tried to kill me before too. Or.... well, at least Matt has, several times. And these guys aren't like the clones from back then. They're our, uh, well, future selves, right? We don't really want them to go off and die of something stupid like the cold. This might... this might become us.” he visibly hesitated at the last part, but forced himself to say it. It was the truth after all. He didn't really fancy dying of hypothermia or starvation fifteen years from now just because his past self held a grudge for yet another stupid decision. Not that he terribly _wanted_ to become... _this_ , but the possibility was quite literally staring him in the face.

Tom grumbled but gave in while Matt looked uneasy but decided to go along with it.

“Alright.”

Edd looked back at their older selves, “So?”

Tom's virtual eyes pinched in distaste or something like it, but Matt elbowed him and he sighed in defeat, “Yeah sure, not like we have many other options right now. Gonna spring the catch now?” he raised an eyebrow in unimpressed askance.

Edd smiled somewhat sheepishly, “Just three conditions. You,” he pointed at future Edd with a frown, “stop trying to kill me.”

The bearded man held his gaze for a moment before slumping and looking to the side and muttering, “Not like I care anymore...”

Edd nodded, somewhat unsure but he'd take what he could get. “Second, let him go.”

Older Tom immediately tensed while Edd's eyes widened, “No can do. He's a fugitive we've been trying to get to for years, we're not about to let him run wild again.”

“ _Edd, what the hell are you doing?!_ ” Tom's harsh whisper went ignored.

Matt looked at Edd uneasily and somewhat confused, but decided not to comment as Edd frowned at their behaviour, “If you guys get to roam around our house then so does he. It's not like you've anyone to give him up to at the moment, right?”

The visored time traveler seemed just about ready to snap out at him, but collected himself with a deep breath while his companion looked at their prisoner contemplatively. “Well, you're not wrong.”

“ _Matt!_ ”

“What? We could still keep him under surveillance. No weapons and always in the same room as one of us, that way it shouldn't be too hard to restrain him if he does try to escape. Besides, where would he go?” his gaze, still pointed at the man kneeling before them, turned cold, “His rebellion is as dead and nonexistent as our army.”

Tom looked down as well, taking in the tense but slumped line of his shoulders, the down-turned face and the many scars littered across any visible skin. Somehow, he didn't think the rebellion was all that important to this man anymore.

Still, he sighed in aggravation, “If you try to escape I will tie you up and stuff you in a closet for the rest of your stay here, do you understand Edd?”

Said man gave a mirthless chuckle, head turning just enough to look at him from the corner of his eye, “Sure Tom. I'll be a good boy, you'll see.” he sneered mockingly.

Alright, that was it.

He kicked the man in the chin, ignoring the protests coming from the other side of their little standoff. Grabbing the lapel of his worn leather duster, he pulled him forwards to snarl in his face.

“I said,” he almost whispered, voice dangerously low, “Do. You. _Understand_.”

Edd very much wanted to say 'Fuck you' just to see what would happen, but he caught sight of the panicked face of his younger counterpart from the corner of his eye and decided that just this once, he wouldn't be difficult. Much.

“...fine, _General._ ”

Tom's electric green glare bore into him a few moments longer before he let go and straightened up, pointedly ignoring the unnerved glares he was receiving from the younger three.

“...what that really necessary?” past Tom ground out, finding himself rather put off with this strange, aggressive version of himself.

“Quite.” was the reply he got, but he was interrupted before he could release the many creative expletives that were starting to build up at the back of his throat as the man continued speaking coolly, showing no signs of his earlier violence, “What's the third condition?”

Edd stared at him for a moment before deciding to let it go for now, “You guys need different names. This will get confusing really quickly otherwise.”

All three time travelers paused for a moment, not having considered that tiny little detail. Huh.

“I don't think we need different names, actually.” said Tom after some consideration, “You three only ever use your nicknames, so it should be okay if we just used our whole names.”

Edd blinked, “That... works I guess.” he almost seemed to be pouting and Tom sighed in exasperation.

“You wanted to call him Tommy, didn't you?”

“Yes.” Edd admitted unashamedly.

The newly christened Thomas, Matthew and Edward watched the byplay with conflicting emotions, none of the three willing to show it, however.

“Well then,” Matt smiled nervously at the three new additions to the household, still not entirely sure how he felt about them, “Let's go, shall we? Looks like it might rain again."

 


	2. Praise Be To Cola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow, the fic continues to write itself. amazing.
> 
> me: come on Lunah, do some plot magic, its not that hard.  
> also me: i need a heartfelt reunion between edd and cola, let it be a thing
> 
> HEEEEEEEY btw if you see some american expressions and know the british equivalent please do tell so i can correct them. my english is an unholy amalgamation of all kinds of shit and retains absolutely no consistency.

Tom was pretty sure he could cut the tension in the room with a rusty spork, let alone a knife.

The moment they'd arrived back home with their unexpected – _why, Edd_ – guests in tow, a deafening, stress laden silence had blanketed the living room. They seemed frozen in their places, not knowing what to do without making _someone_ fly off the handle.

Finally, Edd decided to play the part of proper host, and good on him since it was his fault they'd ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Uh, do you want anything to drink, maybe?” he asked, awkwardness practically oozing from every pore. Still, it seemed to break the tension somewhat as the obvious hostility in Thomas' stance settled back under his skin.

“...water would be nice.”

Edd nodded and looked at Matthew, who attempted a smile which ended up looking more like a grimace. “Water sounds great right now.”

Again Edd nodded and finally turned his gaze to Edward, who'd been observing him carefully apparently. Remembering the apparent cause of this whole ordeal, he ventured a guess. “And I'm guessing you'd like some cola?”

Edward opened his mouth to say something before the words caught up with him and he went rigid, eyes widening before zeroing on Edd with a manic intensity. “Y-yes!” he practically snapped, before catching himself with a grimace and lowering his voice, “I-I, _please_...”

Edd, now very much unnerved, quickly fled into the kitchen, leaving his friends to deal with the time travelers.

Tom stared after him for a moment before sighing and settling down on the couch, flask already in hand and on its way to his lips. This _definitely_ warranted a drink. Never mind that his friend's life had been in danger a few hours ago, or that Matt had somehow managed to take over the world and then had it pulled out from under him in less than thirty minutes. This, standing around awkwardly with a supposed future version of himself that he didn't particularly like, and versions of his friends that were just _off_ in all the wrong ways.

This is why he had that emergency stash of smirnoff hidden away in Tord's old lab (the place he never really wanted to think about or step foot in, which is why it was for _emergencies_ ).

Out of the corner of his socket, he caught sight of his older self's mouth, turned downwards in mild disapproval. He turned to look directly at the man, taking another swig while holding eye(?) contact.

“What.”

Thomas' flat, virtual gaze slipped off to the side, unwilling to look at him directly. “It's nothing.”

This just seemed to irritate Tom further as he very deliberately took another swig, watching as the other's gaze followed the movement with a slowly deepening scowl.

“Oh no, it can't _possibly_ the nothing. You have a look on your face.” he growled out, “If it's the booze, you can't have it. Find your own fucking vodka.”

The man greeted his teeth for a moment, jaw tense and shoulders hunched, before smoothing out his expression into a blank mask.

“I don't drink.”

Tom nearly choked on whatever was in his flask at the moment, coughing and wiping his mouth. He looked back up to sneer, “See, you're trying to be funny but it's really not working.”

Thomas simply stared back coolly, “I've been sober for four years now. You can ask Mat- Matthew, if you want.” he responded, gesturing to the other man, who shrugged.

“Well, I _haven't_ seen you with a bottle in a while, that's for sure.”

Tom was beffuddled, letting his empty gaze spring back and forth between the two before going to Edward, who seemed just as shocked at this revelation.

“Four _years_?”

Thomas refused to look in the bearded man's direction, not acknowledging the astonished exclamation. Tom, on the other hand, was left reeling somewhat.

He'd always assumed his alcoholism would never go away. Hell, he'd embraced it, practically made it a part of _who he was_ as a person. It was an ever present constant in his life, like Susan and Matt and Edd and-

To think that he could, _would_ willingly put down the bottle at any point in time...

Thankfully, Tom was saved from delving fully into this new and exciting identity crisis by Edd, who was holding two glasses of water and two cans of cola in his arms in an attempt to move forward without letting them fall or spill. Fortunately, Matthew took pity on him and reached out to grab the glasses, giving one to Thomas.

Edd smiled gratefully and held out one of the cans to Edward, who was staring at it with something akin to adoration in his eyes. He reached out to grab it-

Or tried to at least, his arms still restrained behind his back.

Edd noticed this and gave Thomas a disapproving look, who tensed but relented with a harsh sigh, pressing his thumb to the, oh, those were handcuffs, which beeped before releasing Edward's wrists.

The man immediately lunged forward, startling Edd. But he only snatched the can and took a big gulp. He coughed a bit, having drunk too fast, before lowering his hand and seemingly savoring the fizzy goodness in his mouth.

Edward seemed to almost melt into the floor of he living room, once again on his knees, though this time willingly. He gave a breathy sigh, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Ohhhhhh, it's better than I remember~”

Thomas and Matthew looked highly disturbed and, honestly, Tom wasn't that far behind. Matt regarded the whole ridiculous spectacle with a somewhat confused smile.

Edd chuckled, apparently finding this show of utter adoration completely relatable. Because of course he did. Tom rolled his eyes(?).

“Ah, you guys need somewhere to sleep!” Matt piped up suddenly, having just realized this.

Tom and Edd exchanged stunned looks. Right, that.. that was a thing. Oops.

Tom scratched the back of his head, remembering a little detail, “My old room is still vacant, isn't it?”

Matt huffed and crossed his arms, “Yeah, but only because you wouldn't let me use it as storage space!”

“That's what your _own_ room is for, dumbass!”

Edd looked thoughtful, “Didn't we want to try and make that into a pool, though?”

“It doesn't work.” the three time travelers interjected at the same time, immediately recoiling from this fact. They exchanged seething glares before turning their attention back to Edd, who seemed somewhere between amused and weirded out.

“Aaaalright then, we'll take your word for it. We don't have an extra bed though.”

“Should've thought about that before you invited them to live here.” Tom muttered and took another swig.

“We do have an extra mattress!” Matt exclaimed.

Edd looked apprehensive, “....is it in your room?”

“Yep!” he affirmed enthusiastically, as if proud of the fact.

Tom and Edd groaned, “It'll take forever to find it...”

It did not, in fact, take forever to find it. What did take forever was pulling it out from underneath one of Matt's many mountains of junk without having it fall right on top of them. Once they'd dragged the mattress over to Tom's old room, now bare of most furniture except an old closet nobody wanted and a table with a single chair they weren't entirely sure where they had gotten it from. It was a wide mattress, enough for two to sleep on comfortably.

Thomas took one look at it and walked out of the room, “I'll take the sofa.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I messed up so I get prisoner duty. Fine.”

Matt, Edd and Tom decided to just go to bed. Sure, it was mid-morning. But they'd spent the whole night running for their lives, preventing (or causing) the Mattocalypse, and negotiating with a trio of volatile future versions of themselves. Sleep's siren call wouldn't be easily ignored now that most of the adrenaline from previously had left their systems.

Inside the room, Edward decided that collapsing on the lumpy old mattress was the best course of action and proceeded to execute it, trench coat and all, clutching the empty cola can close to his chest.

Matthew raised an eyebrow, “I expected you to be more... alert, or something, while sharing a room with one of us.”

Edward blearily opened one eye to look at him, “I don't really give any fucks right now. I'm not currently in prison, that's enough for me. Can you shut up now so I can finally sleep?”

Matthew snorted derisively but didn't say anything else, sitting down on the other side of the mattress, back against the wall, and looked out the window to his right. This would be a long day.

Out in the living room, Thomas sat on the sofa, visor showing trails of rapidly flowing data instead of his usual eyes. This was all he had on the machines, now to figure out how to use it in the dubious and rare calm of mid-morning.

 


	3. Well that escalated quickly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how the fuck did this happen. this was supposed to be a tense but chill dinner scene. why. tom y you so mad.

Matt  woke up feeling incredibly refreshed. A quick look at the clock on his bedside table revealed that it was just a little after three in the afternoon. Man, sleeping during the day did so much more for him than at night, he hadn't woken up so well-rested in months!

He put on a shirt and headed to the bathroom for his morning ritual ( that it wasn't actually morning didn't mean he could go out into the world looking anything less than perfect, he had standards!), which he managed to finish in record time.

Acceptably primped up, Matt headed to the kitchen, but paused when he noticed Tom sitting on the sofa in the living room, attention completely absorbed by... some weird hand gestures?

Well whatever, not the weirdest thing he'd seen him do. He decided he might as well off some food if he was already making his own.

"Want something to eat?"

Tom seemed to startle and turn around- thaaaaaat wasn't Tom.

Right. Time travelers living in their spare bedroom. And their sofa. Apparently. Jeez, he'd completely forgotten.

The display on Thomas' visor, previously displaying something like a translucent green computer screen, blacked out at a wave from his hand before showing a somewhat familiar pair of green, electric eyes.

"Ah, that'd be nice, thank you."

Matt barely registered the answer to his misdirected question, growing incredibly curious.

"What were you doing there with your hand?"

Thomas blinked at the question, "Um, just organizing some data." At Matt's confused look he elaborated, tapping the side of his visor, "This thing works as a sort of miniature computer."

"...how do you operate it?"

Thomas pointed forwards with two fingers and swiped them to the left. Immediately, the visor showed its previous display, absolutely filled with what Matt now somewhat recognized as a bunch of teensy, tiny open windows. With another swipe to the right, the eyes came back.

"Augmented reality." Thomas answered after his little demonstration, a bit amused at Matt's astonished blinking.

"Oh, uh, wow. That's kinda cool." he said, for lack of better words, and turned around, "Well, I'll go get started on that food."

Thomas may or may not have muttered something along the lines of "...kinda cool. I show him him cutting edge AR technology and he calls it 'kinda cool'...", but Matt didn't particalarly care. Sue him, he was hungry. Such beauty needed proper nutrition and all that jazz.

Once in the kitchen, he reached into the cupboard where they kept their noodles, deciding to just make enough for everyone. They could warm it up later. He even remembered to make enough for six instead of three! (Which involved having to look for a larger pot in their disorganised battleground of a kitchen. Luckily, he was well practiced in looking for specific things in huge messes).

After getting the noodles into boiling water and leaving the tomato sauce to simmer, he reached into the freezer, pulling out a red, homemade popsicle and popping it into his mouth.

Once he deemed the noodles probably overcooked, he drained the water and prepared two servings, setting them down on the table. He called Thoas into the kitchen and then remembered they had two other guests. Sighing at his prolongued hunger, he finished off his popsicle and looked at the plastic stick for a moment, trying to remember something...

Oh.

Oh, wait.

Right, then. He threw it into the sink and opened the freezer again, reaching for another popsicle. Man, they'd need to double their orders if this was going to become any sort of long lasting arrangement.

Matt headed to the newly occupied room, not bothering to knock and simply letting himself in, as you do.

Matthew barely managed to keep himself from jumping at the sudden intrusion, muscles tense and slow to relax after he'd registered no threat. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning his tired, aggravated glare to his overly cheerful past self.

Ugh.

"There's food in the kitchen, if you're hungry. Which, well, you really should be. Also this." Matt held out the red frozen treat, also having barely kept himself from jumping at the sight of Matthew's face. He really didn't like the concept of old, cyborg Matt. It was just wrong.

Matthew stared at it for a moment before giving a tiny, wry smile (an admittedly difficult expression to pull off with a metal jaw, but never let it be said that any Matt wasn't a master of his own face), "It's been a while." he murmured as he reached for it.

Matt tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

Matthew seemed to weigh his options for a moment, looking at the popsicle, then back up at him, smile curling into a small smirk. "My meals tend to be... fresher, in my time."

Matt took a few seconds to realize what he meant and wrinkled his nose in mild disapproval. "I'd rather not."

Matthew simply raised an remarkably unimpressed eyebrow, to which Matt looked away sheepishly.

"These work well enough for me."

Matthew shrugged and stuck the popsicle in his mouth, probably knowing exactly what Matt meant, "Fair enough." he mumbled around the treat.

Matt on the other hand, had entirely moved on from the conversation, instead looking intently at the very still, very unconscious form of Edward. He nudged the man a bit with his foot. No reaction.

"Is he still alive?"

Matthew looked down as well, scanning the prone figure, "Probably."

"Are people supposed to be that still? He looks like he's in a coma." the heavy bags under his eyes and somewhat sunken cheeks really didn't help with that impression.

Matthew shrugged, "He might be? He looked like he hadn't slept for a week."

Matt looked on for a bit longer, then looked back at Matthew, pointedly not taking in the metal bits.

"So, food?"

"I'm not really supposed to leave him alone."

"He's in a coma. Or something."

"...yeah, alright."

Back in the kitchen, they found not only Thomas and Matt's miraculously not cold food, but also Tom and Edd, both still looking quite sleepy. Matt made a point of taking the seat between Thomas and Edd while Tom sat on Edd's other side, Matthew simply leaning on the counter while he ate.

Conversation at the meal was awkward and stilted, and ended up dying out completely after a while. This was all just... so weird.

Done eating, the whole group unanimously relocated to the living room, where Edd simply decided to plop down on the sofa, turn on the TV and completely ignore the pink, winged elephant in the room.

Thomas shrugged and went to sit down as well, only to be intercepted by Tom, who practically pushed by him in his apparent quest to take the seat beside Edd before Thomas could.

With an air of highly offended outrage, Thomas silently went for the armchair off to the side instead.

Matthew watched the whole thing with a puzzled frown while Matt took place beside Tom, neither acknowledging what happened.

Edd, on the other hand, gave Tom a puzzled look. which he very much ignored, staring at the screen instead. Raising an eyebrow, Edd rolled his eyes and let it go.

Matthew hesitated for a moment before taking the last remaining seat, beside Matt.

Once again, the atmosphere in the room was uncomforatbly tense. Thomas ignored them all as he fiddled with something or other on his AR display, while Matthew wondered if he should just go back to watching over a man that was obviously not going to wake up for at least a few more hours. The very recent memory of a practically empty, extremely boring room kept him rooted to his spot on the sofa.

They spent a good three hours like this, the only sound in the room coming from what looked to be a Doctor Why marathon. Matthew wasn't really paying attention, something about a biscuit and a bomb.

With an explosive sigh, Thomas shifted his visor back to normal and stood up, walking in front of the sofa towards the kitchen. As he passed Matthew, Matt's attention focused on him and Tom's hand clenched almost painfully aound this flask as he shifted slightly in his seat.

Thomas of course took notice and stopped in front of Tom, looking down at the two of them with a controlled scowl that belied incredible irritation.

"Is there a problem?"

Tom tensed and Edd looked confused at the sudden question, finally looking away from the show.

"I don't know. Is there?" Matt ended up asking back, expression deceptively curious.

Thomas seemed to study them, looking back at their reactions before the right neurons seemed to rub together. He turned his gaze towards Edd, sitting at the other end of the sofa, between him and the kitchen.

Edd looked right back at him, then at his friends, puzzled frown deepening.

Matt tensed as well, and Tom outright glared at the visored man.

Alright, that was enough.

"Guys, what's going on?" Edd asked.

Before either of the two could answer, Matthew stood up as well, a frown of unpleasant realization further marring his face. "They're mother-henning you."

"What?"

Thomas looked at them coolly, "Your friends think we'll attack you at the first chance, apparently."

"What?"

Tom gritted his teeth, "Yeah, well, you haven't given us any reason to think otherwise."

"Tom, what the-"

"We haven't tried to hurt any of you since we came to the past. What brought this on?"

Tom was sitting up now, not quite standing but entirely ready to spring up at any given moment, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe seeing a creepy guy with my face brutally beating a version of Edd? Come on, you obviously have something against that Edward, and it looks like it goes deep, a grudge that goes for years."

"And you're on different sides, apparently." Matt smiled beatifically, "Face to face with a past version of him."

Edd seemed ready to protest (he didn't need protection!), but their arguments were sounding more and more legitimate the more he thought about them, and he silently paled a bit instead, seeing their two 'guests' in a new light. One time traveler bent of killing him was hard enough to deal with. Two, with seemingly better resources? Well...

The two older men seemed entirely shocked by this train of thought, however.

"What- He doesn't- He has nothing to do with us!" Thomas spluttered out.

"Sorry if I don't believe you, General." Tom spat out the title he'd overheard before like venom, now standing.

That seemed to snap something in Thomas, breaking any possible calm he could've achieved. Offense and rage burned through his veins, visor flashing red for a split second.

"What the fuck is your problem with me?!"

"Oh no." muttered Matthew, backing away slightly.

Tom drew himself up to his full, very unimpressive height, black abyssal pits furiously glaring into his future self.

"You're a fucking asshole, that's why!"

"I'M YOU!"

"YOU ARE NOT ME! YOU'RE A PARASITIC ASSWIPE WHO CANT FUCKING CONTROL HIS RAGE AND I REFUSE TO BECOME ANTHING CLOSE TO YOU!"

"DO YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE ME, YOU STUPID-"

"YOU'RE WRONG! THERE'S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH YOU! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT WITH EDD- EDWARD?!"

Edd had immediately removed himself from the couch and backed away wide-eyed. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Tom snap like this, let alone two of them. Hell, they seemed to be building on each other's anger!

He'd noticed Thomas had rubbed Tom entirely the wrong way before they'd gone to sleep, but he hadn't thought his friend was this upset about his apparent future. Maybe he'd riled himself up overthinking instead of sleeping...

The screaming continued, both Matts wisely also removing themselves from the immediate area, as both Toms seemed to edge closer and closer to an extreme bout of violence.

For a moment it seemed they'd toned it down, but, nope, there was the yelling again. Tom didn't yell. He didn't do yelling. He was obviously upset but why-

RIIIING.

The living room went silent all of sudden, the sound of the doorbell reverbarating through the house. For a few moments, no one moved, practically frozen in shock.

The doorbell rang again, longer this time, and Matt found himself moving towards the door without really willing himself to. He made sure to position his body so as to block any outsiders view to the inside of the house before opening the front door just enough not to seem entirely unwelcoming. Image was everything after all.

He frowned a bit (not enough to wrinkle up the skin, of course) when he realized who was at their door. There, with his typical aggravated glare plastered on, stood Eduardo, flanked by Jon and Mark as usual. And also as usual, he'd come to complain.

"You morons are being too loud again. Shut the fuck up."

"You shut the fuck up!" came a distracted bellow from the living room. Edd had probably replied on sheer habit.

"We weren't being that loud, Edwin." Matt replied lightly, wanting to get this over with.

Ah there it was, the red, scrunched up face of absolute fury, "The whole neighbourhood can hear you freaks yelling! And it's Eduar-!"

"Yeah, whatever, I think you should go, Emaldo."

Eduardo's face turned a most certainly unhealthy shade of red. That wasn't even a real fucking name!

Matt, seemingly oblivious to his neighbour's all-consuming rage, closed the door on his face. Or tried to at least, but he didn't manage to close it before a foot lodged itself in the remaining gap. With honestly rather unnecessary force, Eduardo forced the door back open, much wider than it'd been previously. He glared into the living room, ready to deliver a terrible tonguelashing-

And stopped dead at the sight of not only his hated neighbours, but two rather threatening older men (was that a metal eye? What the hell?) all of whom looked exceedingly tense and somewhat spooked.

"What the hell?"

Ah, he'd said that out loud. Welp, time to demand answers.

Tom groaned, all anger seemingly leaving him suddenly as he ran a hand down his face and muttered something along the lines of, "Dammit Matt."

The guy with the 8-bit display visor (what. the fuck.) didn't really react, body coiled tight and radiating aggression. Actually, he kinda looked pretty similar to Tom all over...

'Metal eye (and chin holy fuck)' also matched for the most part to Matt and...

Seriously, what the hell was going on? Were they having their families over all at the same time or something?

Eduardo opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of a can hitting the floor.

Another man had just entered the room, yet again creepily similar to one of the freaks, and was staring at him as if he'd seen a ghost.

"...Eduardo?"


	4. All The Fucks He Does Not Give

“ _You should sleep.” he hears a familiar voice behind him say._

“ _Sleep is for the weak.” he half-jokes, not looking up from the heavily marked map on the table._

_Suddenly, two arms snake around his torso from behind, pulling him back into the larger man's chest._

“ _It's 3 a.m.” the man admonishes._

“ _Much too early for you to be awake, yes.” He backhandedly agrees, ignoring the jab._

_The arms around him tighten, pulling him closer still even as warm lips softly brush over his temple. “Come back to bed. Please.”_

_He sighs, “I can't. This supply run is really important, we need to be prepared for anything.”_

“ _I think we're plenty prepared. Things happen, you can't possibly prepare for every possibility.”_

“ _I'm taking that as a challenge. I'm not losing anyone tomorrow.”_

_A pause, a deep breath, “Is this... is this about Ed-”_

“ _Don't!” he interrupts, tensing at the name. He fidgets a bit to widen the grasp on him before turning around and grasping at the other's shirt as if clutching a lifeline, hands trembling all he while. “P-please. Please don't...”_

_A sigh,”Oh love.”and a hand on his cheek, gently lifting his face, brown eyes locking onto blue, “Do you still blame yourself?”_

_He wants to look away. He wants to, but his neck won't move, his eyes won't budge._

“ _I...”_

_A gentle chuckle, “Of course you do. It was your fault after all.”_

__

_His eyes widen, stomach suddenly heavy, “...what?”_

_"You really are terrible at this leader thing." The fingers at his cheek sharpen, nails digging into his skin. "Either you get your friends killed," Two red eyes stare down at him, one warm and one cold metal, "or you drive them to betrayal."_

_A fanged snarl, framed by a metal jaw. Claws leave scorching red lines on his cheek._

_"Why did you leave me behind?"_

_He feels like he's crying but his eyes are dry._

_"I... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorryimsorryimsorryimsoso-"_

_Cold breath at his throat burningscorchingblazingpleaseno_

_"Sorry doesn't cut it."_

_painstabAGONY_

He sat up much too quickly, bile crawling up his throat. He managed to swallow it back down somehow, his lungs screaming for air. The red, gleaming can in his hand now sported an imprint of it, squeezed tight. There was sweat dripping down his face, arms, back and the world felt too cold and too hot and it spun and spun and spun.

Finally, Edward managed to orient himself. He was in an unfamiliar room, sitting on a threadbare mattress. The sun outside was low, shining through the only window.

His brain then finally registered what woke him up. There were people yelling on the other side of the door, voices dreadfully familiar. What-

The yelling stopped suddenly, giving way to almost absolute silence. He could hear the murmur of quieter conversation, and there was something off about this situation, he just couldn't quite recall what.

Still sleep addled, the fog of terror on his mind not entirely lifted, he walked over to the door and opened it, slipping into the hallway. The voices grew clearer the further along he walked and w _hy was this place so familiar why did it make something in his chest ache-_

He walked into a living room, its inhabitants all tense and facing the door and he knew these people it was on the tip of his tongue.

And then the front door opened fully and _oh_.

Oh he's alive.

This man, this wonderful, terrible man.

The can slipped from his numb fingers.

He knew he recognized everyone else in the room but this- this-

His name, his name, his name was so important what was it what was his name.

Ah.

“...Eduardo?”

The man turned to look at him and he was so so achingly young and there was no recognition in those eyes, but he was _alive_ and that was so so important and so so impossible.

Eduardo was saying something but Edward couldn't hear it over the pulse in his ears, rushing and beating and pumping so loudly. He took a step forward without meaning to, then another and another and another, hands reaching out to grasp at his shoulders, affirm that this was real that this man was solid, living flesh and blood.

He looked up and couldn't really bring himself to take in whatever expression Eduardo's face was forming when he spotted that spark or life in his eyes, blazing and bright.

Suddenly he found himself embracing the other man tightly, tears slipping down his cheeks and body trembling. A litany of quiet apologies slipped through his lips and he couldn't possibly hope to silence them.

Eventually he noticed that Eduardo was stiff as a board and finally allowed himself to take in the rest of the room.

“-dward, Edward, you need to let go of him, I think he can't breathe, Edward, come on.”

There was a green-clad man beside him, face familiar yet also so utterly foreign, bearing no scars and no marks of fatigue, hair trimmed neatly and beard non-existent.

He managed to process what the guy was saying and with great effort made himself let go, retreating a few steps and looking blankly between the two men.

Eduardo seemed frozen in shock while Edd displayed a conflicting mix of emotions, although concern was at the forefront.

The silence was finally broken by one very eloquent “What the fuck.” from Tom behind him, which seemed to be enough to finally unfreeze Eduardo, who shot a seething glare to Edward before turning to Edd.

“Control your damn relative, freak! What the fuck was that?”

Edd blinked, raising an eyebrow, “Uh, relative?”

Eduardo seemed put off by the question, looking back at Edward. “Well, I mean, there's definitely a family resemblance.” Jon piped in from behind him. Eduardo was just a tad too mystified to tell him off for interjecting.

Matt giggled, “Oh silly, that's not Edd's relative. That's Edd form the future!” he proclaimed much too cheerfully.

Mark and Jon made complicated faces while Eduardo seemed to choke on air at the sudden declaration, disbelief warring with realization when he let his gaze swerve over the room, once again taking in the new additions to the household.

It made sense in a way. They were exactly like his neighbours yet also not at all. They seemed older, taller, more worn down and scarred.

And the Tom lookalike was staring at him. Wait, no, not him, behind him. He was staring at... Jon? His expression seemed pained, lips pulled back in a grimace, and none of the earlier aggression present.

Likewise, cyborg-Matt was staring, although his gaze couldn't seem to decide on which of the three to settle.

This was all... really creepy. Especially since he could still feel apparently-future-Edd's stare boring into him, an almost physical force on his profile. And seriously, what the fuck had that been just now? When he'd looked at him, Eduardo had seen fear, guilt, hope and an all-consuming, choking desperation that almost made him shudder.

Yeah, no, he couldn't deal with this, it was shaking him up. And judging by the looks of the various time-travelers, they couldn't either.

“Right. Fuck this.” he declared with a sense of finality and pushed his two minions out the door before slamming it shut behind him.

Maybe some other day, when he was extremely drunk and felt like dealing with something entirely too troublesome.

Inside the house, all the stares moved from the closed front door over to Edward, who either didn't notice or didn't care, still staring after his... his... yeah, there was no label for that.

Edd was the first to break the now exceedingly awkward silence, “Um, you alright?”

Edward blinked dazedly and looked down at the younger man. He took a moment to process the question and finally cement himself in the present before giving Edd a small, mirthless smile.

“Not really.”

Edd seemed to wince a bit and Edward would feel bad about that but he really had no energy to care at the moment, “Well, uh, there's food in the kitchen I can reheat for you if you want.”

Edward considered the nausea he'd been feeling since he woke and realized that maybe not all of that was from emotional turmoil and leftover terror. He tried to remember the last time he'd eaten. Probably before the heist, except no, not then either because he'd been too nervous to even sleep, let alone eat, so maybe the day before that?

“Only if I get something to drink before that.” he said absentmindedly, acknowledging his parched throat.

Edd grinned, “That can be arranged.” he said, and practically dragged Edward to the kitchen by his coat sleeve.

As Edd stuck a plate with the last remaining noodles and sauce in the microwave and Edward melted into a chair once again from the blissful taste of cola (he was getting spoiled, seriously), there was a comfortable silence between them, accentuated by the electric humming of the microwave.

“Is that one of Tord's old coats?” Edd asked suddenly, having been wondering this for a while. He recognized the scratches on the left sleeve and that particularly used up spot on the right lapel.

Edward tensed, grip on his can tightening as he looked to the side with a frown, eyes far away.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, so did you meet him again or something?”

Edward's eyes darkened, jaw clenching as he muttered “Or something.”

Sensing this might be a sore spot, Edd reluctantly let the subject go. He was curious, really. They hadn't heard from Tord for a good three years now and he was admittedly a bit worried. But if Edward didn't want to talk about it there was little he could do.

Once the food was ready, Edward enthusiastically dug in, almost moaning and mumbling something about “real food” and “heaven”.

It was a bit concerning but the man seemed happy for once, so Edd didn't ask.

Done with the food, Edd grabbed two more cans of cola, handing one to Edward (he usually didn't like to share his precious stash, but there was something about his future self melting in absolute delight that he really couldn't take away from him) and walking back to the living room, pieces of a conversation drifting into his ears.

“-ever happened to keeping an eye on him?”

“I didn't see _you_ go check on him at any point in the last three hours. Besides I'm pretty sure you're what woke him up, yelling like that.”

“I-” a sigh, “ugh whatever, what's done is done. He hasn't tried to escape yet so I guess that counts for something.”

Edd walked in to see Matt and Tom off to the side, while Thomas and Matthew argued. Matthew was sitting once again, leaving Thomas still standing in the middle of the room and rubbing his temples.

Edward seemed to completely tune out their presence and simply sat down on the couch. Edd shrugged before following. Even though the man had been trying to kill him the previous evening, he honestly felt rather at ease with his presence. Maybe it was his current general apathy towards life, much like Tom's, that seemed soothing to him.

(Or, you know, maybe it was because he was literally sharing space with himself. Time travel was weird that way.)

Matthew and Thomas stared for a moment. Then Matthew shrugged and Thomas borderline facepalmed.

“I'm sharing living space with Edd fucking Gold, what the hell.” he mumbled in partial disbelief, as if just now realizing this fact.

“Better get used to it, Blue. Unless you've got a third secret time machine somewhere, we might be staying here for a while. Or you know, you could just leave me alone.” Edward said, not once looking at Thomas but staring ahead.

Thomas glared darkly, “Just you wait, Edd. You can't escape him forever.”

Edward shrugged, still looking straight ahead, “I've managed until now.”

Edd turned the TV back on at this point, sharing an uneasy glance with Matt and Tom. Beside him, Edward seemed to relax marginally, the grip on his can not quite so tight. Edd counted that as a win.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah, the first flashback of many to come. probably. also first hint of past ship that kind of inserted itself there without permission, yay. also, hey, if you have a nicer suggestion for a story title im all ears, i named this fic at 3a.m. and i have r e g r e t s


	5. Where the Moonlight Shines

The dull tones of Tom's bass guitar were barely audible but still there, phasing through the wall in soft waves of calming sound.

It was late now, the moon hung high in the sky, its soft silver rays shining upon two figures that were most definitely not asleep. Edward had woken up only hours before and now that his exhaustion had abated somewhat he was far too conscious of the fact that he was sharing a room with a man who would deliver him to Red Leader without hesitation.

Matthew, well, he was nocturnal by nature, if still rather tired. He'd catch some sleep in a few hours maybe, once Edward stopped looking like he'd stab him and flee any moment now.

“You're pretty tense, Edd. I thought you didn't give any fucks.”

Edward huffed a bitter laugh, “I said that while standing in front a mattress after about three days straight of no sleep.”

“Ah yes, you must be so busy as the oh so great rebel leader.”

“Spare me. Take your condescension to someone who cares.”

Matthew was silent for a moment, eyeing the other man from his spot beside the window.

“You used to care.” it slipped out before he could stop it and he immediately regretted it.

Edward's scowl deepened, refusing to look at the redhead. “Yeah, well, so did you. Shit happens.”

Ugh, how had he agreed to sharing a room with Matthew of all people. The last time they'd slept in the same bed...

Matthew sighed, turning his gaze back to the window, “I guess you're right.”

Edward's heartbeat thundered in his ears and he hated it, he hated it hated it hated what this man did to him, all his calm apathy gone in favor of deep seated fear and old memories resurfacing. The silence between them was oppressive and Edward breathed as shallowly as he could to try and preserve it.

How the fuck were they going to manage actual sleep when just being in the same room alone was this difficult.

For all his nocturnal nature, Matthew could already feel sleep weigh down on his eyelids. It had been a long, eventful day and he had gone rather long without sleep. Not as long as Mr. Sleep Deprivation over here of course, but more than enough to muddle his mind and weigh on his limbs.

Perhaps it was the delirious call of oblivion that made him say this.

“Sometimes I miss us.”

There was a long, drawn out silence from the other side of the room. And then a shuddering intake of breath.

“There is no 'us', Matt.”

He smiled a bit, his eyes almost closed, cybernetic red glow already shining through one lid.

“I know. Not since then.” he mumbled.

“Since you betrayed us, you mean.” _Betrayed me._

“Since I-” he giggled, and with his last conscious breath before he slumped in on himself, he asked, “Who betrayed whom, Edd?”

Edward was left staring at the hunched figure below the window, wary and confused. What the hell did he mean by that?

He sighed, heavy and long, dropping his head between his knees. Why was his life always so complicated? Couldn't anything ever just be clear-cut? And why the fuck did he have to be stuck in the past with two men who had betrayed him, torn his heart apart and taken side against him?

….well okay, he could blame that one on himself. Suicide by paradox was not one of his brightest ideas. Especially with a machine made for Red himself. Of course they'd be able to track him down.

He peeked out into the room, seeing Matthew's silhouette barely illuminated by the moonlight. From this angle his jaw and right side were hidden from view, and he could almost pretend to be seven years younger, hopeful and fierce, and only missing one best friend.

He tried to glare, to ignore the tug at his heart, to clench his fists in anger. But faced with such a peaceful expression, he could only groan pitifully run a hand down his face.

“They hate you, Edd. Why can't you just hate them back?”

When his hand reached his chin, he winced, instinctively lowering it to his abdomen. There were some mean bruises blooming all over him, luckily hidden by his coat and just a bit by his scraggly beard. It wasn't too bad even now that exhaustion wasn't numbing his whole body, but they were definitely uncomfortable. A bunch of stinging little reminders of just how low he'd come, little gifts from his former friends.

He looked back at Matthew and released an explosive sigh, standing up and ignoring all the aches that plagued his body.

“Why do I do this to myself?” he muttered as he approached the still figure, kneeling beside it and lifting it into his arms. Matthew had always been pretty heavy for him, but that was due to his height more than anything.

Edward lowered the man onto one side of the mattress and then sat down on the other, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook as he struggled to suppress years of pent up emotion.

“Goddammit.” he sobbed quietly, but the moonlight saw no tears.

Out in the living room, the same moon illuminated a visor, display lit up in constant motion. Behind it, Thomas frowned in consternation, bordering on frustration.

He'd looked for hours upon hours, but he couldn't find a single trace of the Red Army. Not the slightest hint that it even existed at this point in time. Nothing in Norway or Poland or Russia, and definitely nothing in England. No matter where he looked, what kind of database he broke into, he couldn't find anything. Hell, he couldn't even find the man himself!

He must have been laying low for the moment, gathering his forces in the shadows. It was commendable really, but at the moment it was mostly a source of anger and concern. If he couldn't even find his army, find Red Leader, then the possibility of them getting back to their own timeline any time soon shrunk considerably.

He'd looked at the data, for both machines even. But try as he might he couldn't make heads or tails of the mechanics, let alone the actual theory behind them. He was a commander and a sharpshooter, not an engineer and definitely not a physicist.

It made him want to tear his hair out. He was going nowhere fast and quickly running out of options. How was he supposed to get back to Tord like this?

Tord... he'd probably realized they'd been gone for too long by now. Or maybe not. Maybe they'd get their hands on a time machine in a few years and show back up right at the appointed time, years older than they were supposed to be.

God, he _hated_ time travel.

He could not possibly understand Tord's fascination with it. It just made everything overly and unnecessarily complicated.

Thomas rubbed at the skin below his visor, unwilling to take it off just to rub his eyes. The sensation that came with interruption or reigniting the connection to his optical nerves was uncomfortable at best, and deeply unsettling at worst.

A yawn forced its way past his lips, even as he tried to clamp down on it. He couldn't sleep now, he had work to do, a leader to find, a machine to acquire. Time was a luxury he did not have, not anymore at least.

He stood up and ambled to the kitchen, intent on making himself a pot of coffee. He'd never particularly liked the brew, but it did wonders to extend his office hours to near inhuman levels. The concept seemed to unsettle some. A few hours before the fiasco that was Edward's infiltration and subsequent robbery, Patryck had been scolding him again for pulling another all-nighter.

He liked Patryck well enough, but the man could be a gigantic nag at the best of times, even to his superiors. Tord had a neverending well of tales on that particular subject and he never hesitated to tell them far and wide to get the man off his back. Not that it ever worked.

Watching the coffee drip into the pot was almost hypnotizing and his display nearly shut off in response to his near-entrance in the realm of dreams. God, he needed that coffee _bad_.

A mug was ready in his hand by the time the machine finished off and he could finally take in some precious caffeine.

He turned to head back into the living room, mug in hand and-

“Holy Abercrombie sweater on an egg sandwich!” he jumped, nearly dropping he mug in his hand, at the sight of Matt, inches away from his face.

Matt seemed slightly startled as well, before his lips broke into a rueful grin which quickly devolved into breathless laughter. Tomas' shock quickly morphed into a miffed expression.

“What.”

Matt waved a hand in a vague gesture, visibly trying to regain his composure, “I- I'm sorry, I just didn't expect you to do that- that thing still.” he said in-between leftover giggles.

Thomas frowned, “What thing?”

“Oh you know, that unnecessarily complicated swearing thing.” Matt answered, mirth still dancing in his eyes.

Thomas took a moment to look back on the last minute or so, and proceeded to flush slightly.

“Ah, that... doesn't really happen often, anymore.”

Matt's gaze almost softened, a sad glint in his eyes, “Well, I'm kind of glad it still does. It's entertaining at least. What are you doing up, anyway? It's pretty late.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I slept pretty well during the day and I'm naturally nocturnal.” Matt replied without hesitation, looking expectantly back at him.

“Ah, right, that. I was just working.”

Matt frowned. “Weren't you working when I woke up too? Did you even sleep at all...” he glanced at his watch, “...yesterday?”

“I sneaked in a few hours, you don't have to worry.” the lie slipped easily up his throat and past his lips. It was almost like he was talking to Matthew, the conversation copied nearly verbatim from his memories.

Matt shot him a familiar dubious look but didn't argue further.

“Well, I'm going to get a glass of water and go back to my room. Have a good, uh, rest of the night, Thomas.”

Thomas looked at the achingly young man, smiling at him so warmly even after the events of the day, and felt something in him relax the slightest bit at the familiarity.

“Good night, Matt.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaangst for my future sleep deprived children. well at least one of them, the others just frustrated. i feel like ive been shving matt into the foreground a lot, tom is sliding into the background in his stead, should probably correct that


	6. Who Betrayed Whom

The next day found them all unwittingly congregated in the living room once again. Despite the distraction of yet another show marathon, it merely served as white noise to the tension in the room at best.

All three timeline natives were honestly starting to get kind of sick of the constant air of hostility and need to walk on eggshells in their own house. It was maddening, this was supposed to be the place were they could relax and unwind, not host three apparently somewhat unstable future versions of themselves with mountains of emotional baggage between them.

They'd expected this to a certain degree, of course. It was obvious that the older men were on two sides of some sort of struggle. Something serious and rather big, by the look of it. It was a disquieting thought, that they could one day turn on each other in such a way.

Tom and Matt had never really felt protective of Edd before. The cola addict was annoying at best when he was having one of _those_ days and he could definitely take care of himself, as he had proven time and time again.

But he was also their friend and probably the only thing that held this friend group together (ignoring Tord for the moment). Seeing reflections of themselves brutally beating and coldly threatening a version of Edd... it was kind of terrifying, because it proved that they _could_ go that far given the right circumstances.

So yeah, aside from the reason they'd mentioned for their sudden protective streak, there was also a bit of misplaced guilt in there as well. Atonement for a sin never committed.

Matt dealt with these revelations the same way he dealt with most of his problems: he ignored and hoped it'd go away eventually, and maybe spent a bit more time in front of his wonderful magical mirrors than usual.

Tom, well... he drank more. Not a lot more, although his alcohol intake had been pretty high to begin with. And he tried not to think about it too much, because he really had no idea what to do about it. Last night had been bad though. He hadn't been able to sleep and had finally given up around midnight and decided to play on his precious Susan for a good three hours, until the strings and the music had soothed him enough to listen to the call of oblivion.

Edd didn't really have much of an opinion. Yeah, his older self had been kinda brutalized and dehumanized for a little while there, but he'd also tried to kill Edd hours before. And Thomas and Matthew were his friends. Well, not really obviously, but they were still the same people, if rather twisted and worn. He couldn't just leave them, even there was obvious hostility between them in the future.

Besides, they didn't seem to have much of a problem with him, per se, despite the doubts he'd harbored yesterday, only with Edward.

It was weird and bit hard, thinking of them as truly separate entities from his friends.

Either way, they were most definitely getting on his nerves right now. All of their nerves. Matthew's coldness and Thomas' dark looks were bad enough, but piled up on Edward's now constant biting remarks it was all starting to cross a line.

“Alright, that's it!” Edd finally snapped, turning off the TV.

Everyone else startled, although Tom and Matt to a lesser degree. They'd seen this coming, after all. The older men, however, had grown used to Edd being rather mellow in the last two days, so this was a rather jarring jump back into reality.

Edd turned to glare at the three, Matt and Tom looking on with interest, “You three are going to tell me what exactly is going on between you and then we're going to at least find some sort of compromise. This constant hostility is driving me mad and I will not have it in my own house!”

They grimaced simultaneously and it was honestly kind of creepy.

“Look, uh, Edd,” Matthew started, “I don't think we really should-”

“If you're going to constantly ruin our day we at least deserve to know why.” Tom drawled over Matthew, and Edd shot him a grateful glance.

Edward was the first to give in.

“There's a war going on in our time. Has been for years.”

Thomas snorted, “I'd hardly call it a war by now.”

Edward shot him a dark look but continued on, “A man, _Red Leader_ ,” he spat out like poison on his tongue, “built up an army several years ago, for us. He took over Norway in a matter of weeks, and then moved on to the rest of Europe. By the fifth year of the war, very few countries were left independent from the Red Nation, and even fewer left untouched by the war. Currently there's only a few dregs of resistance left in the US, India and Israel.

“After the British army was slaughtered in a massive strike pretty early on and left inoperative, I formed a rebel group to fight against the encroaching Red Army forces. We,” he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “we were doing alright at first. We kept the reds out of the border for a few years.”

Edd, Matt and Tom were listening attentively. This was so much bigger than they had thought, and dread started to pool in their stomachs.

“But the reds cut off our supply lines, inserted moles, instigated discord... and eventually we fell apart. I've been on the run ever since, being a wanted man and all.” he sighed, looking even older than he was supposed to be.

The younger men exchanged concerned glances, looking the other two, who had remained mostly silent.

Matt spoke up hesitantly, “Then we... you... you're with this Red Leader guy?”

“We are.” Thomas affirmed, face carefully blank.

There was silence for a moment as they tried to process this.

Tom looked between Matthew and Thomas with a borderline bewildered scowl, “ _Why_?”

Matt continued uncertainly, “Yeah, wouldn't we.. wouldn't we be on Edd's side for something like this?” he asked, keeping said man, whose face had gone completely blank, in his sight.

Thomas frowned and Matthew looked away. Edward on the other hand looked at them expectantly, cool stare sharpening, “Go on.” he pushed.

Matthew sighed, still not looking at them, “We were, at first.”

“And then what, you went rogue?” Tom asked forcefully.

“Basically.” Thomas responded, face still blank.

“ _Why the fuck would you do that_?!” Tom tried to make the question sound aggressive and demanding, but it just came out desperate and panicked. What the fuck? What the fuck was this? Why go work for the megalomaniac? Why betray Edd? Why why why why why w _hy why why_

“That,” Thomas snapped and leaned forwards, LED eyes narrowing, “is none of your fucking business.”

“The hell it isn't-!” Tom was interrupted by a bitter chuckle, courtesy of Matthew.

“Besides, can you really betray someone who betrayed you first?”

Edward stood up, fury radiating off of him, “That again! What the fuck are you talking about, Matt! You're the one who suddenly showed up in the enemy lines after I'd thought you dead for months!”

Matthew rose up to meet him, left eye now blazing red to match its cybernetic counterpart, “Do you know _why_ , Edd?! _You left me for dead!_ Red Leader found me and saved my life and showed me how much of an ignorant _fuckup_ you really are! How many lives did you waste in your harebrained operations, Edd?! Did you even care?”

Edward seemed shocked before his anger started rising steadily, “Left... left you for dead? You had a _hole_ in your chest, Matt! Courtesy of your precious Red Army by the way! There was no way I could help you and I had a whole platoon to evacuate before they died as well! Do you think I _wanted_ to leave you there?! You were...” his stuttered, growing quieter and lowering his head as tears pooled in his eyes, still scowling, “...you were all I had left. I never wanted to leave, I didn't want you to die, but we... we didn't have time and we didn't have the resources... I never wanted... I never wanted this!”

Edward dropped down heavily on the sofa, face buried in his hands as he took in quick, shallow breaths, leaving Matthew to gape at him, eyes incredibly wide.

Thomas glared darkly at a corner of the room, refusing to look at anyone. Edd, Matt and Tom fidgeted helplessly. It felt like they were suddenly intruding in something deeply personal.

While Edward tried to get himself under control, Matthew started shaking, face twisting into something wretched and raw. Before anyone could hope to stop him, he bolted further into the house, disappearing down the hallway.

A heavy silence blanketed the room, broken only by Edward's desperate gasps for air. Tom looked at him worriedly. The man was trembling, had trouble breathing, his nails were drawing blood from his scalp-

Shit, was he having a panic attack?

“Hey, hey, come on,” he sat down awkwardly beside him, having absolutely no idea what to do but unwilling to just leaving him like this, “you're okay, it's alright, deep breaths, come on, breathe with me Edw- Edd, come on...”

While Tom continued whispering comforting nothings in Edward's ear trying to get him to breathe properly and Edd stood around not knowing what to do, Matt followed after his older counterpart after only a moment's hesitation.

He checked the 'guest room', but it was empty. Thinking hard, he tried to listen for anything unusual as he walked down the hall, up until he was facing his own room's door. Matt hesitated for a second, but grabbed the handle and walked in.

It took him a little while, what with the mountains of random objects in his room, but he finally found a shaking figure huddled at the foot of his bed. He approached it slowly, not wanting to startle the man, but Matthew didn't seem to react to his presence.

When he finally reached him, Matt sat down beside him, getting close enough that his arm brushed with Matthew's just barely, so he could easily shy away if he wanted.

Matthew didn't react.

Tentatively, Matt pressed his arm against him a bit more firmly, trying to provide at least some sort of physical comfort he could latch onto.

They sat there for a long time. Matt didn't really know why he was doing this, nor did he know how he felt about all the terrible things he'd just learned, but when Matthew's shaking eventually started subsiding, he decided the why didn't really matter right now.

Every now and then, Matt could hear footsteps go by his door, but no one came in.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Matthew stopped shaking entirely, although his head was still buried in his arms, legs held close to his chest.

They sat in silence, counting breaths, inhale, exhale, inhale, until Matthew finally broke it, not lifting his head.

“I loved him.”

Matt almost jumped at the sudden sound, but forced himself not to react, humming slightly in response to the entirely unexpected statement.

“We were together. After Tom disappeared it just kind of happened. He stopped sleeping with Eduardo and then, suddenly, we were a thing.”

A pause, a deep breath.

“I loved him. That's why it hurt so much, I think, when he left me in that dark hallway.”

The quite stretched on after that, until it was clear that he wouldn't be saying much else. Matt nudged him lightly with his shoulder.

“Want to spend the night here?”

“...yeah.” came the hoarse reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that fight was actually planned, miracle of miracles, though id expected it to crop up a bit later. it couldve gone many ways but this is what i settled on. hopefully ill be able to mention everything else i wanted to bring up at a later point.  
> also tom is so lost, trying to help smn with a panic attack, the poor guy


	7. Thomas Fucks Up

"We made it _woooooorse_." Edd groaned into his pillow and Tom grunted in agreement, sitting on Edd's bed and taking a swig from his flask.

Edward had long since locked himself up in his assigned room. They had been worried about bed distribution at first, but as evening approached and neither Matt showed any sign of leaving Matt's room, they decided to let it sort itself out, moving to Edd's room and leaving Thomas alone in the living room to whatever it was that he constantly did.

Edd sighed and grabbed a random pencil and sketchbook lying beside the bed, doodling. Tom contented himself with staring absently at the many many drawings pinned to the wall, not really focusing on any of them.

"...Tom?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think they'll able be able to..." Edd hesitated, pencil stilling over the paper.

Tom mulled the question over, knowing exactly what had been left unsaid, "...I don't know." he answered honestly.

Edd hummed, "What do you... what do you think about... all of this?" he asked, not daring to look up.

"That they're both idiots." Tom snapped, then sighed, "But I guess we also don't really have the whole story."

"Yeah... I wonder who this Red Leader guy is to them, that they'd just..." _Leave, and not look back_.

Tom frowned, "So do I." he chewed on his lip for a moment, "Edd look-"

"If you're going to apologize, don't bother." Edd crossed his arms.

Tom choked on his own spit, coughing. "But-"

Edd's expression softened, "I don't want an apology for something that hasn't affected me, that you haven't done and might never even do. If anything, that's entirely between those three."

Tom ran a hand down his face, sighing. "Alright." he stood up, "I'll be going to my room then."

"Okay."

Tom walked out and towards his own room before noticing that his flask was nearly empty. Welp, time for a refill. Approaching the living room instead, he started hearing low mutters, slowly escalating.

"-mit, dammit, _dammit_. No red sweaters, no vandalism, no suspicious weapons trade, no infuriating haircut, nothing! Did he just... _dissolve_ into the atmosphere? Damn you, you sneaky little- _ugh_! I can't work like this. Time travel wasn't even in my job description. Why did I let him talk me into this? And then he can't even extend the basic courtesy of actually showing up on CCTV. Did he start recruiting in _Turkey_ or something? Dammit, dammit." Tom saw Thomas hunch over, grasping at his hair as his voice grew weaker, "... _dammit_ , Tord... I'm sorry, I can't-"

"What the fuck does the commie have to do with anything?"

Thomas' head shot up, probably giving himself whiplash, and stared at him halfway between panic and confusion. Tom hadn't meant to speak up like that, but Tord's name had come up so unexpectedly that he hadn't been able to stop himself in time. Well, what's done is done, and he did want to know.

It took a moment for Thomas to even process his presence, let alone his question, but when he did he growled deep in his throat, an almost inhuman sound.

“Fuck off.”

“No, no, nononono, wait, we haven't heard form the bastard at all ever since he left and Edd's been pretty broken up about it. But it looks like he's still alive in the future and you apparently seem to know what he's been doing that he's been too busy to even send a text. So-”

“I don't know!” Thomas snapped, virtual eyes seemingly clouded with frustration and seemingly not quite there anymore, and Tom's mouth shut with an audible click, “I don't know where he is! He could be in fucking Thailand for all I know! It's not like he ever comprised a history of his fucking army! Does he even _have_ an army right now? _Who the fuck knows?_ I sure don't! For fuck's sake, he wears bright red all the time, it's part of his fucking image apparently, he refuses to consider any other color, no matter how terrible _bright fucking red_ is for stealth missions, and even with that I still can't find him! I don't know how his stupid machine works and I don't know where he is, I've accomplished absolutely nothing and I won't even get scolded for it because I can't go back to my fucking leader!” he finished, panting from a lack of oxygen.

Throughout his rant, Tom's sockets had gradually widened more and more as realization dawned on him.

“... _his_ army? _Tord's_ army?”

Thomas' gaze snapped back to him, once again clear but slowly morphing with encroaching panic. He'd said too much, he'd said _far_ too much.

“Do you mean to tell me,” Tom growled, “that the fucking _commie bastard_ is this megalomaniac of a Red Leader you betrayed Edd- Edward over?”

Thomas remained silent, unable to open his mouth, to say something, _anything_ , to fix his mistake. He just stared back at Tom, mute and frozen.

Tom's sockets narrowed before he turned around to head back to his room. There was probably a bottle somewhere in there anyway.

“ _I hope it was worth it_.” he snapped over his shoulder. When he turned into the hallway, however, he almost tripped over something.

Or someone.

Sitting at the bend with his back to the wall and his knees pulled close, Edd stared ahead blankly.

“Shit, Edd-”

The green-clad man stood up calmly, dusted off his jeans and headed to his room without a word. Tom stood there for a moment before mutely heading to his own room. He was going to drink until he passed out tonight.

In the living room, Thomas was still frozen, unable to process what he'd just done.

_Fuck_ .

He'd wanted-

   he'd wanted-

it was a secret-

              his leader's secret-

                                  keep them ignorant and happy-

                  shit shit shit-

   he didn't want to hurt them-

                                                         Tord was going to kill him-

                                they deserved a few peaceful years-

                                                               what if this changed everything-

                                                                                                                                     -would that be so bad?

                                        it would!

                                                                         his Tord-

                                                                                                                                                              (-but his Edd, his Matt, his youth)

                                                         fuuuuuuuuuuuu-

The spell on his body was released all at once, forcing him to quickly grab at the sofa to keep from falling on his suddenly non-functional legs. He felt dizzy and there was darkness at the corners of his vision, slowly eating away at it.

His legs trembled and his arms shook and it was really, really hard to think.

Coffee. He had to stay awake. He had to find Tord. Find Red Leader. Fix time machine. What. How.

_Coffee._

A solid command in his head.

The mug on the table was empty.

He heaved himself up, slowly ambling into the kitchen. Coffee coffee keep awake where was the damn coffee not this cupboard not this one where was it he couldn't _remember_

Ah.

That-

That wasn't coffee.

Standing innocently in the cupboard were five still unopened bottles of vodka.

Thomas couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't even blink. The phantom burn in his throat, a long lost memory from years ago, was suddenly extremely prevalent. He swallowed audibly, fingers twitching as his hand moved forwards _forwards_ -

The cupboard door closed with a loud bang as he leaned on the counter, one hand on his face trying to keep him grounded through his panting breaths.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a six-pack of energy drinks, seemingly forgotten in a corner.

That'd do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and snappy cause there was nothing else i felt I should add. man tho, theres so much yelling in this fic, i should tone it down
> 
> thomas me boi ya FUCKED UP BAD  
> (hey remember when i mentioned thomas had pulled an allnighter before he had to go chase after edward? me too. remeber when thomas slept that one time in this fic? me neither)
> 
> in other news, fluff should be coming either next chapter or the one after. be grateful for i have granted you mercy.


	8. Beauty Days &  Blackouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LemonLady asked for mercy, here I give thee mercy  
> aka Matt & Matthew fluff

Matthew woke up slowly and comfortably, like he hadn't in a while. He was calm and warm and all seemed right in the world. Did he have a day off? Those were something of a rarity, he should enjoy it.

He became aware of something warm pressed into his side and partly draping over him. Had he brought someone over the night before, perhaps? It had been a long while since he'd last gotten laid and he wondered if he'd had to pay for a good lay last night since he doubted anyone would willingly take him otherwise.

The warm presence at his side squirmed and mumbled something in a voice that sounded entirely too familiar before it finally removed itself from Matthew's space, sitting up on the bed.

Matthew finally deigned to open his eyes, staring at the drab gray ceiling of his room.

Except it wasn't gray and this wasn't his room and he was starting to doubt he'd even gotten laid last night,which was both disappointing and relieving for reasons he did not care to examine right now. Or ever.

No, the ceiling was familiar, an old memory come to life, as was the messy mop of red hair he could make out from the corner of his eye. He turned his head a bit to look at Matt, who was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but did notice him looking.

Matt smiled sleepily, “Mornin' Matthew.”

Matthew simply stared, mumbling an absent “Morning.” as he tried to sit up.

Keyword 'tried', since as soon as his eye-level had been high enough to make out his reflection on multiple surfaces, he immediately dropped back down onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow and groaning.

Matt raised an eyebrow, “Uh, you alright there, buddy?”

“I forgot you had so many mirrors!” it came out muffled but he was relatively sure he'd gotten his message across, seeing as Matt had started giggling like a schoolgirl, the damn bastard.

“Silly, how could you ever forget my precious mirrors?”

Matthew blindly swatted at him, hitting his thigh, before turning his head so his mouth wasn't covered in pillow anymore.

“I didn't really notice them yesterday when I, uh,stormed in. But now, ugh, they're _everywhere!_ ”

“Yes, that they are.” Matt said with an amused smile, although confusion sparked in his eyes. “Is that... a problem?”

Matthew sighed and turned on the bed to face the ceiling once again, which thankfully didn't sport any mirrors yet (he had gotten that bright idea about three years before Tord and the subsequent war knocked on their doorstep).

“I don't really like mirrors, Matt.” and holy shit was it weird to address someone with your own nickname, “Not since.... this.” he said, gesturing vaguely at his deformed, metal-covered face. The exhaustion, the age, the frown lines on his forehead, but mostly his eye and chin.

“Oh.” Matt frowned, chewing on his bottom lip, “Can I ask how that happened?”

Matthew stared at the white ceiling, mulling over his response, “My jaw was practically shattered in an altercation with Red Leader, back when I was still a rebel. With what we had available, fusing it to metal to keep it in place was apparently the only thing they could do. My eye... Edd- ah, Edward got it with a stray bullet during a mission to capture him.”

“But doesn't your, uh, Red Army have better resources? Couldn't they make it look... better?”

Matthew laughed bitterly, “For cosmetic changes? No, they don't really care for that kind of thing. If Red Leader can't hide his scarred face and robot arm then neither can we. I guess it's for some sort of feeling of unity, I don't really know or care.”

“But then, why don't you like mirrors? I mean I get that you're old and have weird cyborg bits and all, but you're still me and I look amazing.” he tilted his head in a display of such genuine confusion that Matthew couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.

“I'm not though, not anymore, and I've really got nothing to be vain about.”

Matt's frown deepened, “Well, that's just not true.” he looked off to the side in thought before he started almost vibrating in excitement. “I've got it! Today we're having a beauty day!”

Matthew blinked dumbly at the declaration before he found himself hauled out of bed and dragged towards the door, not even given the slightest chance to catch a single look at a mirror.

“Matt, wha-”

“Every good beauty day starts in the bathroom so we'll lock ourselves up in there for a while! First things first, you dearly need a shower, Matthew!”

Matthew found himself unceremoniously shoved into the bathroom as Matt locked the door behind him. The younger man handed him a towel without preamble and cheerfully gestured to the shower.

Matthew's mind finally caught up him and he blinked, "Uh, look Matt, thank you, really. But you don't have to-"

"I do though! How am I supposed to feel beautiful if my future self doesn't? Now go on, get in there. You really do need a shower, beauty day or not."

Out of viable arguments, Matthew relented and began to undress as Matt brushed his teeth. He hesitated a bit at his turtleneck but sighed and took it off, causing Matt to nearly choke on toothpaste at the sight of the gruesome scar on the left side of his chest.

Well then.

Matt was careful not to show any further reaction as he kept his gaze firmly glued to the bathroom mirror above the sink.

Fully undressed and somehow not uncomfortable at all in the presence of his only mildly judgmental younger self, Matthew stepped into the shower. The warm spray was heaven on his tense muscles and he found himself relaxing under it. He eyed the variety of products available, immediately spotting Matt's. His memory wasn't all that terribly great most of the time, but when it came to his products, he could remember every single one and what they were for, even years after production was discontinued, if only out of disgruntlement.

Flowery and fruity scents combined in a cloud of steam and perfume that should have probably been nauseating but he just found comforting, relaxing him further. Hell, he hadn't used conditioner in so long and massaging it through his hair and into his scalp felt like heaven.

When he finally got out, hair damp and towel around his waist, he felt cleaner and calmer than he had in weeks, stress and worries bled out of his muscles and washed down the drain, at least for the moment. Matt's face lit up and h he practically shoved Matthew out of the way, distractedly calling over his shoulder, "You can use my brush, the hairdryer is in the cabinet and I left out a spare toothbrush on the sink."

Matthew stood there as the sounds of the shower filled the bathroom once again, wondering if he'd really been such a hurricane of cheerful energy fifteen years ago. He felt overwhelmed, like he was being dragged along by a river. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached for the toothbrush first.

Matt apparently didn't feel like pampering himself much today since he was out of the shower before Matthew had even touched the hairdryer. Matt clicked his tongue, looking fondly exasperated as he grabbed it and gestured for Matthew to sit down on the toilet.

"I don't really-"

"Sit down, Matthew." Alright, yes, that was definitely exasperation.

He didn't know how he should feel, meekly following his past self around like this but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much with the feeling of slim fingers in his hair and warm air against his scalp. It felt nice, being pampered like this. He could forget the worries about Thomas and Edward and the future for a little while, pretend he had no responsibilities waiting for him, that he wasn't having some sort internal crisis.

He had no idea why Matt was doing this, but he didn't really feel like questioning it much. Let Matt drag him along for a day, it wouldn't do any harm.

“Ah! Peeling, I forgot your peeling!” Matt exclaimed, reaching towards his door of the cabinet and pulling out a tube, which he handed to Matthew. “Use it while I finish up with your hair. And mine.”

Matthew shrugged and began to apply it. He wasn't new to this song and dance, just hadn't done it in a while. A few months, maybe years. He wasn't entirely sure. He rubbed circles into his face as Matt finished up with him and went to stand in the mirror to dry his own hair. After he rinsed it off, they finally got out of the bathroom, releasing a cloud of steam into the rest of the house.

Back in Matt's room, he was immediately handed a bundle of clothes, which he put on without questions. Matt must have put his old clothes in the wash. Matthew thus found himself in a soft lavender sweater, light blue jeans and fuzzy purple socks. He felt the most domestic he had in years. And also very, very pastel.

Matt, now back in his customary outfit, was rummaging in his closet for something, which he apparently found after half a minute, lifting up a light green tube in the hair.

“Mask time!”

He looked so elated, almost giddily excited as he turned to grin at Matthew, and for a moment Matthew could pretend he was looking at his own reflection. Achingly young, grinning warmly, face soft and unmarred.

Beautiful.

The moment passed, and Matthew smiled back despite himself.

“Mask time it is.” he would have said, if the loud sound of something breaking hadn't suddenly resounded through the house.

Matt and Matthew shared a concerned look and rushed out the door, noting that Edd and Tom were out in the hallway as well and fast approaching the living room.

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was Thomas, staring dumbly down at the broken remains of a mug resting in a puddle of cooling coffee. His arm was held forward, as if still holding the mug. He wasn't moving or reacting, the way it looked he was barely breathing.

“Thomas?” Matthew called. No reaction. “Tom?” he tried again, ignoring the twitch of the blue-clad man beside him. That did get a reaction, head lifting to look at them.

Thomas remained silent, still staring numbly into nothing.

Matthew frowned and walked towards him, “Hey, you alright?” he asked, louder this time. That got him a pained hiss that seemed to snap Thomas out of it.

“Not so loud.” the man complained, rubbing at his temples. He looked down at the broken mess again, “Sorry, I'll clean that up.”

But as he started to bend down, he blacked out for a moment. Next thing he knew, he was leaning heavily against something soft and warm.

“-as, Thomas, can you hear me?”

Thomas blinked, “Ah, yeah, sorry.”

“Are you alright?” Matthew asked worriedly, still holding him up.

“I'm fine.” Thomas muttered, pushing himself off his colleague to stand on his own two feet again.

Mathew's frown deepened, “Are you quite sure? You just fell on me. Did you black out there?”

“I said I'm fine.”Thomas growled out. Matthew backed away, hands raised in surrender, and Thomas sighed. “Sorry. I'll just... go get the mop.”

He got three steps into the room and _why was the floor suddenly so close-_

Everything went dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you thoght it would only be fluff? FOOL! THIS IS AN ANGSTFIC and we're only on chapter 8, we can get more toothrotting fluff once me bois have gotten over a few of their issues. also i just realizedthat aside from chapter 1 this entire fic has been people walking in and out of rooms, a bunch of tense silences and the occasional yelling...
> 
> HEY ALSO KIND OF IMPORTANT i hate to be that person but i really appreciate your comments, they're literally the only thing that keep me going and writing and if i lose my momentum right now i don't know if ill be able to get the ball rolling again. so id appreciate even just a scream. screams are good.


	9. Collapse

Matthew scrambled forwards in a vain attempt to catch the falling body of his friend. He winced as his head hit the floor with a resounding thud, immediately kneeling beside him to check for injuries. Fortunately the side of his head only sported a new bump. At this Matthew turned his attention to Thomas' face, slack in unconsciousness.

His brow furrowed, noticing the gray pallor of his skin and the darker shades right below the edge of his visor. Careful not to jostle anything, Matthew slowly removed it, frown deepening as it revealed deep, dark rings under his sockets.

"Where's Patryk when you need him?" he muttered absently, shifting the unconscious body in his arms in order to lift him properly.

Tom and Matt were staring, unreadable and concerned respectively, but Edd had already moved out into the hallway and was knocking on the door of the first room after finding it locked.

"Edward, open up. We kinda need that bed, er, mattress."

Miraculously, the door did open by the time Matthew turned the corner with Thomas in his arms. Edward, looking as haggard as ever (and if there was a new redness to his eyes no one commented), took a look at them from the open door, carefully avoiding any sort of eye-contact with Matthew.

"What the hell happened to him?"

Matthew himself suddenly found the fabric of Thomas' vest exceedingly interesting. "He collapsed. I'm guessing he hasn't slept at all lately. Can I...?" the request went unsaid but understood and Edward shifted aside in the doorway.

This mellow, meek atmosphere between them was new and uncomfortable, nothing like their previous hostility. Suddenly, neither of them knew how they stood with each other, and that left them both flat-footed.

Thus it was that Matthew found himself asking permission and quietly entering the room (even though it was technically assigned to all three of them) in order to deposit the unconscious Thomas on the mattress. He placed the visor right beside him, knowing that he would freak out otherwise and after a moment of inner debate, started unbuttoning his vest, prompting a choked off sound from somewhere behind him. His response was automatic and not entirely by conscious effort, his focus taken up by very finicky buttons (how the hell did he put this on and off every day?!).

“Relax, I'm just trying to make him a bit more comfortable. So he can at least breathe properly while passed out. Or something.”

Once the vest was open and somehow maneuvered out from underneath the sleeping manand the tie slipped away from his neck thereafter, he moved on to the belt. He rolled his eyes at yet another strained noise behind him. Really, it wasn't like he was stripping the man.

Vest, tie and belt and, of course, shoes in place beside the mattress, he turned around just in time to see Matt shoving Edward out of the room.

“Shower! You need a shower! The bathroom is free, go take one now!”

The sight of the tall ginger pushing around the smaller, scruffy and undeniably older man while simultaneously looking like he did not want to be anywhere near him was absolutely ridiculous, especially when coupled with Edward's mildly annoyed yet entirely bewildered expression.

Matthew couldn't help it, and he could only barely suppress the laughter building up in his belly, although the occasional snort escaped him. Edd seemed rather amused as well, although the spark of mirth in his eyes was dampened by something he couldn't quite identify. Tom just looked tired and quite ready to get drunk. At 10 in the morning.

Matthew decided to follow his younger counterpart and his ( _enemy? ex-lover? former friend?_ ) through the hallway, where Matt firmly shut the bathroom door in Edward's baffled face, prompting Matthew to release a giggle, which he immediately clamped down on.

There was a complaint from the other side of the door which he couldn't quite make out but Matt apparently understood perfectly, as he readily responded.

“I'm going to barricade this door if I don't hear the shower going, Edward!”

There was a grin on his face, he just knew it, and it probably looked ghastly with his metal jaw and the whole situation was probably only so funny because he was slightly hysterical, but damn he just couldn't stop grinning.

After a few grumbles and some unidentifiable sounds, the shower did turn on. However Matt didn't leave until he could hear the heavier streams sliding off a body under the spray, at which point he turned to Matthew, doing a one-eighty in mood, expression back to an excited grin.

“Mask time!” he cheered, holding up the green tube he'd apparently held onto after exiting the room. He grabbed Matthew's wrist and practically dragged him back to his room.

Matthew simply let it happen. Maybe all three of them needed to get dragged and shoved around a bit.

And if that led to chocolate facemasks and glittery painted nails then so be it.

In the bathroom, Edward found himself taking a much longer shower than he'd intended. The dirt, grime and sweat had been scrubbed off thoroughly, but the feeling of hot water hammering on his back that he'd grown so unused to was way too nice to give up just yet, no matter how red his skin was becoming.

Finally turning it off, he realized he hadn't brought a towel with him. When he opened the curtain, however, his dilemma seemed solved. Lying innocently on the toilet lid was a fresh, folded up towel. What _wasn't_ lying around were his clothes. Instead he found some sweatpants, socks and a vaguely familiar Smeg Head shirt under the towel.

He hadn't even noticed anyone enter the room. Had his guard fallen so far in the last few days? After a moment of thought he decided he didn't actually care and took the towel before he caught a cold.

Once dressed and with a towel on his hair with the promise of imminent scrubbing, he finally exited the bathroom, only to come face to face with Edd, who was leaning on the opposite wall, obviously waiting. They stared at each other for a moment before Edd spoke.

“Can I talk to you?”

Edward kept staring for a moment longer, but then sighed. “Sure, lead the way.”

Edd nodded and headed to his room, the one place in this house Edward had both longed and dreaded to see the most (the lab being a close second). He braced himself and went inside.

It looked exactly like he remembered and yet at the same time nothing like it. Of course it didn't, this was years before the last time he'd seen the place. That stack of sketchbooks beside his bed had eventually moved to the far corner once it had become large enough for him to trip over every time he got out of bed. The beanbags near his desk had been replaced with an actual loveseat, and he'd actually gotten around to organizing his absolute mess of a workplace after the cursed attic fiasco.

Of course, none of that had happened here, seeing as he was in the past, and so he instead immersed himself in an even older version of an already old memory.

"Um." the sound broke him out of his reverie and he tried to play off his little space-out moment with a cough, though the slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks have him away well enough. Edd smiled slightly but didn't comment, sitting down on his bed and motioning for him to sit as well. Edward did so gingerly, feeling like a foreign element in a familiar environment, and looked at the younger man expectantly.

Edd fidgeted a bit under the attention, looking for the right words. "I, uh, I know you originally came back to kill me and all," Edward winced and Edd relaxed just a tad with a chuckle, "but I'd like to think we're on better terms now, a bit." he looked up as if looking for confirmation and Edward gave a careful nod after a moment of consideration. Edd nodded to himself and took a breath, expression shifting into something more severe.

"So why didn't you tell us about Tord?"

Edward gave a full-body flinch at the name, and Edd almost felt bad for bringing it up.

“How... when...?”

Edd looked off to the side, “Thomas slipped up last night and Tom caught it. I was just close enough to overhear.”

Edward seemed conflicted, brow furrowed in consternation, before sighing again, “...I didn't want to ruin it all for you just yet. He was... he's your friend, you care about him and he's probably years away from becoming a real threat.”

“Yeah, alright, it's kind of... upsetting, to know.”

Edward leaned against the wall and snorted, “That's one way to put it.”

“Is he already...” _Dangerous?_

Edward stared into the air, contemplating his response. “I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. He never really gave me any details on his ' _rise to power_ '.” he rolled his eyes, “And judging by the fact that To- Thomas has been looking for him literally non-stop since we came here, he never told him either.”

“...why do you keep that coat?”

Edward went rigid, hands tightening into fists before he consciously loosened them. “...I guess it's a reminder.”

“Of what?”

Edward didn't answer.

A strange kind of silence fell over the duo, not uncomfortable but not entirely trusting either. It was a fragile thing, held together by compromise and unasked questions. The beat of their hearts seemed louder, their breaths slowed and synchronized. It was a silence of two parts that were never meant to be separate, never meant to meet.

And yet here they were.

The universe sure had a strange sense of humor.

A breath, another.

The silence shattered.

“What do you want to do about him, now that you know?”

Edd gave no sign that he'd even heard the question. There was thought, contemplation and feeling in his eyes, and then there was an answer on his lips.

“I think I want to talk to him.”

Edward turned to look at him, taking in the hopeful shine of amber eyes so much like his own. Determination and a spine of steel that rarely saw the light of day during this time of their lives. He looked back ahead, into nothing.

“Then you better hope you get to him before the next five years pass. By then he'll be a full-on megalomaniac.”

“Noted.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow amazing, i talk about needing comments so i dont lose moemntum, you guys give me a bunch of awesome comments and the i stop posting for several days. great, aint i? sorry tho, i literally spent the whole weekend slaving away at my desk with optional food and bathroom breaks trying to get a uni project finished. my wrist hates me, as does my thumb. "lets illustrate a children's book!" we said, "itll be fun!" we said.  
> welp, back to the fic at hand, just need matt to shove thomas under the shower and we'll have a nice complete set of clean future bois. my plan of getting them cleaned up and it comfy clothes unfolds! mwahahaha! (seriously tho, all these shower scenes)  
> that last scene may or may not lead to later plot, who even knows i sure dont


	10. A Civil Conversation

“ _Sir.”_

_The man at the desk looks up, eye lighting up in delighted recognition. “Ah, yes, yes, Thomas. I expect you have a report for me?”_

_Tom tries to swallow down his apprehension, throat suddenly, desperately dry. This report on top of the nonsense that man was spouting before he escaped. Such a great day it's shaping up to be. He clears his throat and braces himself._

“ _Yes sir. The target managed to escape through a distraction, a flashbang one of the soldiers overlooked. We have five injured to varying degrees after the ensuing altercation. None killed.”_

_The man looks contemplative, leaning back in his large leather chair. A bead of sweat runs down the side of Tom's face. Another failure. Another damnable failure to bring back to his leader. He's so screwed._

_However, instead of glaring darkly and doling out the appropriate punishment, Red Leader looks thoughtful, calm._

“ _Edd's always been such a slippery eel. No matter, I trust the injured are being taken care of?”_

_Ah, he must've caught him in one of his rare good moods. Tom can't believe his luck, he could almost cry. He nods eagerly, “Yes sir. They were immediately brought to the medical wing.”_

_Red Leader nods to himself, “Good, good. And your secondary target?”_

“ _The bomb was defused before Gold could set it off, sir.”_

_A snort, “Stop that, Tom. You know you can call me Tord in private.”_

_Oh._

_Oh my._

_He's in a_ really _good mood today. He wonders why, but dismisses the thought almost immediately. It isn't his business, he's just glad to enjoy its effects. His stance relaxes just a bit._

“ _Yes Tord.”_

_Tord gives him a smile, both pleased and dark with anticipation. It sends a shiver down his spine as the powerful man stands up to circle around his desk._

“ _In fact, you've done such a good job today, failure to capture aside, I think you've earned yourself a treat.” he purrs into Tom's ear, hot breath scalding his skin and tickling at his jaw. He barely manages to catch himself and keep his posture alert after another pleasured shiver, though there is nothing he can do about the growing interest in his pants._

_Tord seems to notice his little problem and chuckles, pulling away, although the scent of smoke and oil clings to Tom like tar._

“ _Such a good little soldier you are, waiting for the magic words.” Tord's smile widens, voice smooth and rich and sweet like dark chocolate. “At ease, Tom. Let's have some fun, hm?” His hand, the metal one that could crush him like a twig, comes to rest at his hip, pulling him closer, and Tom melts at the contact, pressing himself into the man before him._

_He can feel lips on his neck, slowly working their way down to his collarbone, now exposed and his tie discarded on the floor. Tord chuckles once again into the hollow of his neck, and Tom can feel him speak when they're flush together like this._

“ _So pliant, no rebellion in sight.” a sigh, almost melancholic, as lips move up to rest lightly on his pulse, “Sometimes I miss that aggression, you know.” Tord seems to notice him still at his words and sighs again. “Never mind, Tom. You're perfect like this.”_

 _But, the words have brought recent memories with them, of his target saying things that made him_ doubt _._

_As seems to be the norm, Tord notices his distraction as well and pulls away enough to look at his face with a slight frown._

“ _What is it?”_

_Tom hesitates, not really wanting to bring this up in this situation. But maybe it'll work best now that he's in such a good mood..._

“ _I...”_

_Tord grows impatient, frown deepening and the hand on his hip tightening almost painfully, “Spit it out.”_

“ _...the target, Gold.” he starts, and Tord raises an eyebrow, intrigued, “He... said something. I know that he used to know me, before. You've told me. But... he, he seemed so... sad, when he saw me. He thought for some reason I wanted to join him, at first. I don't...” He trails off when he notices the steadily darkening look in Tord's eye, quickly backtracking. “You know, it's not important at all. Can't we just go back to-”_

_A hand around his throat cuts him off, the grip on his hip now bruising. A dark, cold, silver glare bores into him as he struggles to breathe._

“ _Are you having_ doubts _, Thomas?”_

_Tom tries to deny it, shake his head, anything, but the grip on his throat is too solid. With a growl, he is slammed into the nearby wall, his vision going spotty for a second._

_And then it goes black completely as the visor is ripped away from his sockets, the unpleasant white noise of sensations that come with the disconnect going under over the pain at the back of his head and the burning in his lungs._

_That hot breath on his cheek, so pleasant previously, feels like it's burning away at his skin._

“ _I saved your life.” says Tord's voice, so close. Dark and rough and cold. “I took you in. I gave you your sight back. I improved you. I gave you a purpose.” he growls._

“ _P-please.” Tom manages to wheeze out._

“ _I offered you my heart on a silver platter, Thomas. And you dare_ doubt _me because of the words of a wanted criminal?”_

__

“ _N-no.” it's barely a sound, as it slips through his lips._

“ _No?” Tord inquires in a low tone, the grip on his throat loosening just a tad._

_Tom scrambles to snatch the opportunity he's given, “No, n-never. I-I... I love you Tord, please.”_

_Something in his words seem to click inside his leader, and his features soften just the slightest bit. He sighs, finally releasing his throat and loosening the grip on his hip._

“ _Forget whatever he may have said to you, min kjærlighet.” he orders, voice firm but gentle, and Tom couldn't be more eager to agree if he tried._

_He's rewarded with a kiss, almost chaste. It's the only comfort he can take in the darkness and he chases those lips even as they slip away, so far, far away._

_Unreachable._

It was dark.

It was dark it was dark why was it so dark.

His visor had night-vision, it shouldn't be dark. It was never dark for him, why was it dark now?

Was he blind blind blind again dark dark please help I don't want to be alone I'm lost it's too dark

His hand groped around erratically until a familiar shape was suddenly shoved into it, and he immediately grabbed it, gripping it like a lifeline. He fumbled with the object until he'd oriented it properly in his hands and finally slipped the strap around his head, placing the attached object over his unseeing sockets.

The device connected with his nerves, a disconcerting feeling at the best of times, and with a small beep the world came back into view.

The world was apparently redhaired and exceedingly concerned.

“Are... you alright, Thomas?” Matthew asked after a pause.

He breathed in, one, two, three, out.

“I'm fine.”

Matthew stared at him disbelief and yeah, okay, shit. He'd collapsed. Not one of his best moments.

“You're obviously not fine.” another voice pointed out and his gaze shot to the doorway, where Edward stood in all his grouchy, perpetually tired glory, dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants. And now that he'd noticed that he couldn't ignore the fuzzy lavender sweater on his colleague.

How surreal.

The sight of Edward leaning so casually against the doorframe made something ugly and hot and poisonous rise up in his chest, a kind of irrational anger that came from nowhere. However, it was gone almost as soon as it had shown up. He just didn't have the energy for it.

He stared instead at Matthew's face without consciously taking it in, pointing out absently, “That's really sharp eyeliner.”

The incredulity was almost radiating off of the ginger, seemingly in conflict with his long buried but now apparently resurfacing need to preen.

“...yeah okay, you're really not alright.”

“I'm fine.” Thomas repeated, retreating further into himself.

Matthew frowned worriedly, one hand grasping his shoulder in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “Hey, hey, look at me, Thomas. Tom. Come on.”

Thomas wished he'd stop calling him so he could disappear in peace. He decided to keep up the pretense of a conversation to appease him, maybe then he'd leave him alone.

“How long was I out?”

Matthew hesitated and Edward answered for him, “A good twenty-one hours.”

That... didn't sound good. It may have been reaching the general area of a coma? Maybe?

Matthew made an aborted attempt at biting his lip. Was he picking up old habits here? How impractical.

“How much caffeine did you actually take in to stay awake for so long, Thomas?”

For this one he actually had to go back to reality a bit to make his brain work. Ugh, math. It took him much longer than it probably should ahve, possibly because a lot of the last day or so was very blurry and he was relatively sure he was missing a few hours in-between.

“...a lot?” was his final estimate. An unimpressive estimate at that, judging by Matthew's raised eyebrow and Edward's snort of suppressed laughter.

“Yeah, we guessed as much. Patryk would absolutely kill you if he were here, you know.”

“I'm sure Paul wouldn't let him, I'm kind of important.” he replied absently. He really, really needed a change of subject,”Where are... those three? The young ones?”

“Grocery shopping.” Matthew answered, entirely onto him but willing to play along.

Edward let out a small chuckle, “We're all under strict orders not to burn the house down in the meantime.”

Matthew grabbed a glass of water that had apparently been standing beside the mattress this whole time and offered it to him.

“You need water.” he said and then wrinkled his nose, “And a shower.”

Thomas stared at the glass, feeling a certain disconnect. They were having a civil conversation, no threats, no violence, no underlying tension. He was living in a house with Matthew and Edward and all their past selves.

There was no army.

There were no sides.

What the fuck was his life?

He grabbed the glass. “Thanks.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey heeeeeeey lets talk shipping and toxic, abusive relationships. the memory sequence above? not good. bad. terrible horrible thing going on there. its there for story and character development and general suffering purposes, not to be romanticised. actual, somewhat healthy tomtord might still be a thing in this fic, theres a good possibility at least, but that up there is not it. ok? ok. glad we cleared that up.
> 
> talking about ships, i'm currently awfully tempted to make mattmatt an actual thing...
> 
> also heeeeey i need validation, your comments give me life and the only motivation i have to keep writing, you people are so lovely. LemonLady, many thanks for that scream, it made my day.


	11. He's Still Got It

They'd been having a rather warm and sunny week so far and Jon was determined to enjoy the sun to the fullest. Get as much sunlight as humanly possible before spring decided to go back to rainy season and all that.

A lawn chair, a cold drink and his headphones were everything he needed out here in the backyard. He wouldn't have minded some company, sure, but Mark didn't like staying out in the sun for too long and Eduardo had firmly planted himself in front of the TV that morning and had yet to get up again.

Really, Eduardo seemed grouchier than usual the last few days, and rather preoccupied as well. Jon wondered whether it had to do with their new neighbours. Then again, it _was_ the neighbours, of course it had to do with them. Even if these were apparently from the future.

He wondered what he would be like ten years from now. Maybe he'd finally grow taller. It seemed to work out for Edd at least. And maybe he'd finally meet a mermaid. Wouldn't that be an experience.

He was really curious about the new guys, even though he knew Eduardo didn't want himself, and by extension Mark and Jon, involved with them. He'd seemed pretty freaked out after what Jon and Mark had come to call the Hug Incident. Even so, time travelers were interesting by the sheer nature of their existence, so of course he was burning with questions. Ah, but how to approach them...

Just then, as if by some higher power, a golden chance landed on his lap. The neighbour's backdoor opened and out stepped a vaguely familiar, brown-haired man. He was carrying a laundry basket, probably out to hang up the wash. Jon perked up,wondering if he should approach this future version of Edd.

However, the decision was taken from his hands when the man noticed him and... smiled? It was small, barely noticeable over the scraggly beard and the deep dark rings under his eyes, but it was there.

“Hello, Jon.” he greeted, before picking up a green jacket from the basket to hang up.

Jon blinked, a bit taken aback by the borderline warm greeting, and floundering for an appropriate response, “Uh, um, hi Edd...?”

“Call me Edward,” he called over his shoulder, “Less confusing for everybody.”

Jon nodded, tasting the almost familiar name on his tongue, “Alright Edward.”

The older man nodded back and continued working in silence as Jon watched him. It was rather weird seeing him in such casual clothing when he'd been wearing a leather trench coat and otherwise torn clothing during the Hug Incident.

A coat he was hanging up right now.

“You're not supposed to wash those.” he blurted out without thinking and stood up, cringing immediately after.

Edward gave a huff of what might have been laughter, looking back at him in mild amusement as he lifted up the jacket. “I know. But it's been a few years, and a short handwash shouldn't really damage it too much.”

Jon scratched his head in embarrassment, “Ah, I guess.” he said as he came closer to the fence, taking a good look at the jacket, “Is it really old? It looks pretty beaten up.”

“A bit, yeah.” Edward said as he picked up another garment. A black vest this time. The clothesline was turning into a rather interesting fashion amalgamation.

“It looks cool though.”

Edward was silent, pausing in the middle of hanging up the vest before continuing. “...thanks.”

He watched the man work for a little while, questions barely kept at bay on his tongue. It was so tempting to just ask when this version of Edd seemed to... tolerate him? Like him? It was hard to tell. He'd smiled at him though, tired but friendly. Not mocking or scheming. That had to count for something. And it made his curiosity burn all the fiercer.

Edward seemed to notice something was up and paused in his work, raising an eyebrow at him. The dam broke.

“Do you know future me? Is he cool? What am I like in... how far in the future are you from again?”

Edward stiffened, expression tightening a bit as he looked off to the side.

“...about fifteen years, give or take.” he replied, pointedly not answering the previous questions.

Jon blinked and pressed on, “And future me?”

Edward's jaw tightened momentarily, “...the last I saw of you, you were still living with Mark and Eduardo.”

“Oh. Does that mean we haven't seen each other in a while from your perspective? Did you move out? Did _we_ move out? Because I'm sure we'd still at least see each other if we were still neighbours fifteen years from now. But now that you mention it, that does sound unlikely.” he felt like such a chatterbox, but it had been a while since anyone had _let_ him talk for this long so he enjoyed it for all it was worth.

A corner of Edward's mouth twitched up wryly at the barrage. He seemed even more tired than before and maybe a bit sad for some reason, but amusement colored his voice as he spoke, “Something like that, yeah.”

“Awww.” Jon wilted, leaning on the fence, “I wanted to know what future me is like.”

Edward snorted, turning back to the basket and lifting on last garment, “Guess you'll just have to find out like everyone else.”

Jon was about to tell him just how unfair that seemed to him when the backdoor to his own house slammed open to reveal an irate Eduardo.

“Jon! Are you fraternizing with the enemy?! Don't you listen to anything Edd says!”

Jon blinked back at him and tilted his head, “But I'm talking to Edward?”

“To Edw- Oh.” Eduardo cut himself off, finally getting a good look at the brunet on the other side of the fence. “I- is that what we're calling him now?” he remarked somewhat distractedly. For whatever reason he hadn't actually expected the three time-travelers to step foot out of the house.

“Well, having two Edds,Toms and Matts does seem like it would be confusing-”

“ _ Shut up. _ ” Eduardo ground out, not willing to let Jon go off on a long, long tangent like he was so prone to do. Jon winced a bit and smiled sheepishly. A snort drew their attention and they turned back to Edward, who was watching them like one would watch a mildly entertaining TV show. “And you!” Eduardo snapped, “Don't ever hug me again!”

Edward jerked a bit as a gust of startled laughter forced its way out from his chest and he smirked at Eduardo. “Whatever you say, your majesty.”

Eduardo's face went red as his fist shook in anger, “Are you  _ mocking _ me?!”

The older man plastered on an innocent look that fooled absolutely no one, “ _ Me _ ? Mock you?  _ Never _ !”

“Suck my dick, freak!” Eduardo snapped.

Edward's smirk made a comeback, now wider and with a predatory edge to it as his lids lowered a tad and his head tilted  _ just so _ .

“Is that an invitation?”

Eduardo's entire thought process stuttered to a stop and he completely blanked out, staring wide-eyed at the man before him. He couldn't even begin to formulate some sort of comeback. Eduardo.exe has stopped working.

Edward took a good look at his face, now red for an entirely different reason, and burst out laughing. Full-bellied, nearly hysterical laughter poured out of him as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. It went on for long enough that Eduardo managed to pull himself together somewhat by the time Edward calmed down, wiping at the corners of his eyes with a few left-over chuckles. Jon was smiling amusedly as well and Eduardo pointedly ignored him.

“Hah, oh man. It's been  _ years _ since I laughed so hard. Heh. You're too easy to fluster at this age, it's amazing.” Edward remarked with another chuckle.

“ _ What the fuck's your problem _ ?!” Eduardo blurted out, cheeks still tinged red despite his efforts.

Edward made a show of thinking it over, hand on his chin and gaze pointed upwards in mock thoughtfulness. Then he looked back down at them.”Do you want that list in alphabetical or chronological order?”

Eduardo seemed at a loss as to what to say at that reply. He blinked rapidly, trying to formulate a response. Man but did this version of Edd trip him up in the weirdest ways possible.

Edward saved him the effort by taking the now empty laundry basket and turning to walk back into the house. However he paused and called over his shoulder, “By the way, if you ever get a nuclear powered satellite dish, or anything nuclear powered really, could you hand over any toxic waste that might accumulate?”

Eduardo blinked in utter bafflement, “... _ what _ ?”

Edward seemed to smile wryly as he headed to the house once again, “I'll take that as a yes. Thanks!” he said right before closing the backdoor behind him.

Eduardo and Jon stood in silence for a moment before Jon opened his mouth-

“Not. A Word.”

Jon closed his mouth.

Inside the house, Matt looked up from the freezer, red popsicle in hand, as Edward walked through the kitchen to deposit the laundry basket in the small closet-room adjacent to it.

The ginger blinked at the small smile on Edward's face. It was a good look on him, made him seem years younger than before.

“You're in an awfully good mood for having just come back from hanging up the laundry.” he remarked with a raised eyebrow.

Edward chuckled, closing the door and turning to head back out of the kitchen, smile widening into a smirk.

“I've still got it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops my hand slipped.... take this as a sort of interlude i guess. the whole thing just kinda wrote itself. im trying to strike a balance of screen time. so far mark has been terribly neglected and edd and tom could probably use an introspective chapter or two.


	12. 4 a.m. Bullshit

“So do you live in the living room now or...?” Tom blurted out without thinking. In his defense, he was relatively drunk by now and this was the third time he'd walked into the living room to see Edward lounging there at weird hours.

Edward sighed, spread out over the couch with a cola can in hand and one leg hanging off to rest lightly on the floor.

“Thomas locked himself in the room so yeah, pretty much.”

Tom nodded and took a swig from his ever-present flask, shoving Edward's legs off the end of the couch so he could sit down.

“Shouldn't you be asleep or something?” he asked, staring ahead at the TV. It was off, as was relatively usual in their house at four in the morning.

Edward snorted and lifted his legs to lay them on Tom's lap instead, which he accepted with only a minor grunt of complaint. “Sleep is for the weak.” he declared, taking a swig of his own can.

The corner of Tom's mouth turned upwards as he lifted his flask in Edward's direction.”I'll drink to that.” and he did.

Edward rolled his eyes, “You'd drink to a ten-year-old doing a handstand.”

“Don't dis kid gymnasts, they're 'impressive for their age'.” Tom said, the last part in a mocking posh accent, before breaking into a short bout of giggles.

“You know, I don't think a handstand really counts as gymnastics.”

“I count getting out of bed as gymnastics.”

“Yeah, okay, true.”

There was something nagging at Edward about his current sleeping arrangements though...

Ah.

“Actually, where's Matthew been sleeping?”

Tom hummed in thought, “I... think he's been staying in Matt's room?”

“Huh.” Edward blinked, not really having seen that coming. “Well, easier to avoid someone if you're not sleeping in the same room, so cheers to me.” he lifted up his can with the barest amount of enthusiasm.

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Are you guys still dealing with that fight from the other day?”

Edward huffed out a bitter laugh, “Bold of you to assume I'm  _ dealing with it _ .”

Tom nodded sagely, “Ah yes, the age old cure-all solution of avoiding the problem until it goes away.”

“Yup.”

“Except the problem lives in the same house as you now.” Tom pointed out.

Edward glowered at him before lunging for the flask in his hands. “Gimme that!” Tom released an indignant squawk as the other man poured some of whatever was in there into his can before tossing it back. Tom barely managed to catch it right side up.

“Hey!”

“Four a.m. or not, I'm not having this conversation stone cold sober, you can forget about it.”

Tom narrowed his eyes in accusation. “Since when do  _ you _ drink?”

After a big gulp Edward deigned to answer, “Since you disappeared.”

Tom blinked, baffled. “What?”

Edward seemed to process what he'd just said and groaned, “Ugh sorry, wrong Tom. I'm unloading, I'll stop now.”

“No no nononono, you can't just say something like that and not explain.” Tom demanded, “I... Thomas disappeared?”

Edward was silent. Seconds ticked by with no answer forthcoming. Tom had just about given up on receiving one when Edward finally spoke up, voice weak.

“...his vision was growing weaker by the day. Just two weeks after he first told us and he was already practically half blind. I told him he'd be off the field and of course the stubborn ass didn't listen. He sneaked into one of the cars bound for an attack on a smaller Red Army base they'd been cobbling together in the south coast. The plan failed, the unit came back with half their members and a report of one soldier that had seen Tom get off the truck and run right into the fight. There was no trace of him...”regret was written on his face in bold letters, “A year later, he showed up in the enemy lines, gun pointed right at my fucking forehead and saying something or other about capturing me for his leader. I don't think I was listening, I just saw a ghost from the past that wanted me dead.”

His voice had grown hoarse by the end of it and he gulped down a bit more of his improvised mix. Tom was silent, not really knowing what to say to that.

Edward laughed wetly, voice tremulous, “Looking back, I'm pretty damn good at leaving my friends for dead, huh? And Tord was always there to fix them up and turn them into good little soldiers. Hell, maybe he's the better friend for it...”

“Don't!”

Edward startled at the shout, looking up at Tom's livid face.

“Don't say that. You...” Tom seemed to hesitate, “You obviously made some- a lot of mistakes. But so did Matthew, and so did Thomas. And you might not be the best friend anyone could have, but I highly doubt you'll ever be as bad as the commie bastard.”

Edward stare numbly at him, muttering distantly, “You don't know what you're talking about...”

Tom had obviously heard him, judging by his troubled frown, “Maybe not. I wasn't there, and I don't think I ever want to be. But I know enough, Edward. You're just a mostly good person that the world has absolutely shat on. I think all three of you might be...” the last part was muttered, barely audible, but Edward just managed to catch it.

He kept staring, searching Tom's face for any sign of falseness. Tom started fidgeting under his heavy gaze, he could almost physically feel it. Finally, Edward looked away, up at the ceiling.

“Thanks.”

Tom snorted, “It's just early enough in the morning that I can say shit like that. Don't go expecting anything like this again.”

Edward gave a small wry smile, “Look at me, an old man unloading all his baggage onto his unsuspecting housemate fifteen years in the past.”

“You're not  _ that _ old.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“Fifteen. Years.” Edward reiterated, “Do you know how weird it is to see you all so energetic? It makes me tired just looking at you.”

“Isn't that your default mode?”

“Doesn't mean it can't level up.”

“Are you going to talk to Matthew?”

“I-  _ what? _ ” Edward almost gave himself whiplash turning his head to stare incredulously at Tom. “Where the hell did  _ that _ come from?!”

Tom shrugged, “We talked about it before, a bit.”

“You don't just  _ spring _ that shit on people, Tom!”

“So are you?”

Edward groaned and ran a hand down his face, “You're not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope. We're all pretty tired of your drama.” Tom remarked nonchalantly.

Edward glared weakly, “Sorry to break it to you, but being on two different sides of a war does involve a bit of...  _ drama _ .” displeasure dripped off the word like tar.

“Well then, drama king.” Tom said as he shoved Edward's legs off his lap, earning him an outraged exclamation, “Talk to drama queen or I cut off your cola supply.”

Edward gasped scandalized and narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn't  _ dare _ .”

Tom gave him a remarkably unimpressed look. “Try me.”

“Edd would kill you.”

“It's for a good cause, he'd understand.”

“No he wouldn't.”

“No he wouldn't.” Tom admitted, “But I can deal with Edd. Your soap opera bullshit though? It needs to go.”

Edward let his head fall back on the armrest, one arm over his face as he groaned in absolute misery. “You're evil incarnate.”

“I've been called worse.” Tom said with a smile as he stood up. “So will you talk to him or do I need to resort to drastic measures?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you tyrant. I'll talk to him... eventually.”

Tom snorted, “I hope for your own sanity that that's the 'soon' kind of eventually.” He turned to walk back to his room, but halted in his steps when Edward called to him one more time.

“Hey Tom.”

“Hm?”

“If I'm the drama king and Matthew's the queen, what does that make Thomas?”

Tom grinned and resumed walking out of the room, calling behind him, “The drama  _ emperor _ .”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit short, today. this was honestly supposed to be edward and thomas but then tom showed up at the very beginning and thomas didnt get a chance to shine in all his imperial glory. next up: less edward.
> 
> (i postrate myself before you, reader, and beg. this fic lives and dies for your comments)


	13. Fifteen Years Is a Long Time

“ _Sir?”_

_He doesn't respond, instead staring up at the building that is somehow miraculously still standing._

“ _Do a patrol around the block,” he orders absently, “I'll be right back.” He ignores the mild protests behind him and enters the building. The lobby is completely trashed, the front desk is missing one half and the postboxes had most of their doors torn out and strewn across the floor._

_The lift isn't working obviously. Any more of a miracle and it'd be outright suspicious that out of all the buildings around town, this one in particular is still mostly intact. Taking the stairs isn't as hard as he remembers it being (maybe all that hellish training was for a reason after all)._

_Quicker than expected he finds himself on the fourth floor, the carpeted hallway stretching out before him. He ignores every door, even those that are painfully familiar to him, but one. It's locked, of course. He definitely doesn't have the key anymore. He pushes a bit against it to see how much it gives, then rears back and lands a solid kick on the outer edge, breaking it open._

_The gust of air from his sudden entrance lifts up a cloud of dust, which he grimaces at. Well, it's been a while, it was bound not to be... quite pristine. Once the dust settles somewhat he steps into the apartment and the first thing he sees are the photos, absolutely everywhere, on every wall. They're big and loud and a painful reminder of simpler times._

_The second thing that catches his eye is movement. His own movement, reflected in a mirror, two mirrors, ten mirrors, so many mirrors all around him and he can see himself and his jaw and his eye and his frown lines and age and hunching posture and sagging hair and he sees it all right next to pictures and photos of his old self._

__

_Pictures and mirrors and photos and mirrors and the difference is so clear, so achingly, agonizingly clear. Half of these faces are him and half are not and reality hurts hurts hurts hurts huRTS_

_His fingers hurt too, they're red red red dripping down his arms and glass and diamond dust flying in the air and the walls are quite suddenly bare and everywhere he steps there's splintered wood and torn paper and broken glass going crunch crunch crunch like the bones in his face in his jaw the bones wouldn't hold anymore and they crunched when they moved ah wait no it's all metal now_

_There's glass daggers cutting into his feet, his ankles, his knees, hips, chest, face his face hiS FaCE_

Matthew woke with a start, hand flying to his face, as if to check for cuts. It came away clean, no blood, no glass, no pain anywhere. His other hand was wrapped around something and he only had to tilt his head down to see it was Matt, curled up into his side and sleeping peacefully. Matt's head rested on his chest, a hand lying beside it in a loose fist.

Matthew drank in the sight of him. The thin delicate fingers, the tussled coppery hair, his long curled eyelashes, the sunkissed freckles that spread out from his cheeks to the rest of him, soft pink lips parted in peaceful breathing.

He'd looked like this once upon a time, he'd _been_ this man. So unmarked, so young.

Beautiful.

And while he'd attempted to pretend to be looking into a mirror when he looked at his face, it was harder and harder with each passing day. The self-deceit wasn't the problem, he was worryingly good at that.

The problem was that Matthew wasn't Matt, no matter how much he wanted to be.

The more time he spent with his younger counterpart, the more he came to realize just how different they really were. Matt was everything Matthew wanted to be, but he was also his own person.

Fifteen years was a long, long time. A lot could change. Had changed.

And yet surprisingly, instead of spurring on bitterness and resentment, the more separate the concepts of Matthew and Matt became in his head, the more he loved seeing that soft freckled skin and that dazzling grin and those sparkling blue eyes.

He wasn't new to the concept of narcissism, obviously. He wondered if that was what this was, or if this was something else entirely.

Matt was soft and bright and beautiful in a way that he rarely ever got to experience in the past few years. It was mesmerizing, warmed him from the inside, chased away those dark voices that poisoned his mind with bitterness and self-loathing.

The world had seemed so _bright_ the past few days.

Absently, Matthew noticed that his heart-rate had gone back down to normal. His arm wrapped a bit tighter around Matt without his consent, but not without his approval.

His head leaned down until he could bury his face in Matt's hair, inhaling deeply. Dragon fruit shampoo, coconut conditioner, and the strange addition of sunflowers from somewhere unidentifiable. His hair was soft, the body beside him was warm as it curled a bit closer to his side.

After what felt like an eternity, he reluctantly disentangled himself from his bedmate, walking into the bathroom to go through his newly reinstated elaborate morning routine.

He felt strange today. All floaty and reflexive and introspective. The world around him seemed clearer and yet further away.

Once done, he walked towards the kitchen, quickly bypassing the sleeping man on the couch without really looking at him. Just his luck though, that if he managed to avoid one, another would take his place.

Edd was sitting at the table in the kitchen, blearily shoveling some colorfully bland cereal into his mouth.

“Mornin'.” he greeted sleepily, and Matthew gave a little wave and a small smile back. This seemed to be enough, and also not horrifying which was a plus, for Edd as he turned back to his sugary sustenance.

Matthew opened the freezer. Ah, they were already running low. He'd have to talk to Matt about doubling the supply. He pulled out one of the few remaining popsicles and popped it into his mouth as he started heating up a pan, pulling out two eggs from the fridge.

“If I knew you were gonna make breakfast I wouldn't have made myself cereal.” he heard the groggy whine from behind him and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Do you still want some?” he asked, turning to look at Edd's miffed visage.

Edd responded by standing from his seat, taking his bowl and dumping its _dry_ contents into the garbage. Matthew raised an eyebrow.

“Since when do you eat cereal dry?”

Edd's cheeks flushed in mild embarrassment as he opened the cupboard to take out two plates in an obvious ploy to avoid any sort of eye contact. “I didn't notice until the third bite.”

Matthew gave a rather unrefined snort and opened the fridge once again, pulling out two more eggs and some bacon. They coexisted in companionable silence while he cooked. At some point Edd started humming a random tune and Matthew found himself swaying slightly to its inconsistent rhythm.

It struck him suddenly how achingly familiar this whole situation was to him. His movements stuttered to a stop for just a second. Ah, the eggs were done. As was the bacon. His popsicle was long gone.

Shoving the contents of the pan onto the two awaiting plates, he discarded the hot utensil in the sink and sat down to eat. However, he couldn't help but sneak glances at Edd, sitting in front of him. His face was slack in delight, chewing slowly. A familiar sight, warm soft memories crawling their way back into the forefront of his mind.

He pushed them back but they slipped through anyway, and he couldn't help but compare the young man before him to the sweet memories of years prior and finding him entirely more fitted to the role than the actual man he'd spent them with.

Fifteen years were a long, long time. A lot could change.

Neither Matthew nor Edward had changed for the better.

Matt and Edd seemed like ideals of sweet times long past to him right now, and it was as painful as it was nice. Edd still had that smile, full of mischief, he still had that knack for cheering people up with his mere presence, still had that spark of hope in his eyes.

Matthew ate slowly, taking his time and enjoying the sight of Edd, so delighted and carefree. There was no bad blood between him and this Edd, no sense of betrayal, no bitterness, no anger. It was nice. Nostalgic.

Warm.

He could maybe, possibly remember why exactly he had felt his heart swell every time he had laid eyes on the man.

Eventually Edd finished up and thanked him with a blinding smile.

Ow, his heart.

Matthew finished up as well and after quickly washing the few dishes, made his way out of the kitchen.

Blue eyes met tired brown. He froze mid-step. Edward was awake.

Edward also looked exceedingly uncomfortable as he seemed to gather his courage to say something. Matthew willed himself to unfreeze and slowly moved away from the sofa.

“Wait!”

Ahhhhh dammit.

He turned his head expectantly and watched as Edward sighed, shoulders hunched in a defensive posture.

“I- can we- can we talk?”

'About what?' he wanted to ask, but he knew exactly what. He turned back to the other man, nodding numbly.

“Alright.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said less edward. im a filthy, filthy liar. next up MOAR edward
> 
> hahahahahhaha am i being subtle with matthew??????? i think not. did i PLAN to ship it like this???? not completely. am i loving it anyway????????????? kinda yeah.
> 
> ringo will... come up... eventually... i didnt totally forget her..... noooooo how dare you accuse me of such sacrilege
> 
> (hey psssst! i think comments may be an addiction. or maybe its just validation. comment to enable this idiot addict with no self-esteem thanks)


	14. Ambiguity and Ambivalence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit on the short side. this was supposed to be mostly a serious discussion on forgiveness but then it degraded into shipping and towards the end the feels just sprung up on me without warning. i couldnt plan this story properly if i tried, apparently
> 
> next up should bea bit on edd and his take on the whole situation
> 
> comments are love, comments are life, they give me energy to give you more angst.... did that rhyme? im not sure

Edward coughed into his fist awkwardly. He wasn't good at this kind of stuff, ironic seeing as he'd been the mediator between his friends for most of his youth. Maybe he was out of practice.

(He was definitely out of friends, at least.)

Matthew sat on the other end of the sofa, body angled towards him. He seemed to be avoiding eye-contact just as much as Edward was so at least that worked out for them. Edward sighed heavily and took a deep breath-

“I'm sorry.”

Edward blinked, processing the words, and stared at Matthew in bewilderment. “ _What?_ ”

Matthew has staring down at his lap, refusing to look up, “I... I'm sorry.”

“Wha- no, wait. I'm the one who's supposed to be apologizing here, don't you-.” Edward insisted frantically.

“No.” Matthew rebuffed him, finally looking him in the eyes, and his one blue eye reflected an unbending will before he looked back down. “I guess, looking back... you were right. There was a literal hole in my chest, only the Red Army could have saved me by that point. I put all the blame on you because I felt so _betrayed_ -” his voice broke and he took a tremulous breath, “I thought you'd left me to save your own skin, but I never even considered that you may not even have had a choice. So... I'm sorry that I blamed you without even asking why, I'm sorry that I left and that I turned on you, I'm... sorry about us...”

Edward stared at him in shock, mouth slightly agape, and then frowned in thought.

“I... guess we both made mistakes. Some worse than others.” he began slowly, as if tasting the words in his mouth for the first time. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. About that day and...your eye.”

Matthew lifted a hand to touch the cybernetic eye, but aborted the motion, lowering it awkwardly. “Yeah...”

“And about us... that's not really a thing anymore, is it?”

Matthew snorted but then his face turned contemplative, “I... did love you, back then. We were in love. But it's been so long, we've changed... _so much_. And I think we've hurt each other too much and too often by now, for any good to come out of it.”

There was a moment of solemn silence that Edward broke with a deadpan, “Are you breaking up with me?”

That startled a short laugh out of Matthew, “Yeah, sure. Consider yourself officially available. Now you can go chase after your nice, young Eduardo to your heart's content.” he declared with a smirk.

Edward choked on air, “M- _Matt!_ I'm not-!”

“The window to Matt's room was open all day yesterday.”

Edward blinked at the sudden statement before he remembered that Matt's window looked out into the backyard. He groaned, burying his face into his hands. "I was just trying to mess with him."

Matthew had a smug little smirk on his face and Edward suddenly felt the irresistible urge to punch him. "Sure you were, Edd."

Edward sighed, "It's just... he's so _young_ . They _all_ are, it makes me feel..."

"...alien?"

"Yeah, I guess... it's so strange...

Matthew chuckled. " _Tell me about it..._ " he muttered, looking of on the direction of the hallway and the rooms beyond the corner.

Edward gave him a strange look but didn't dig into it. "...and you too." he said, and continued at the perplexed look on the ginger's face, "This whole... thing. After all these years, living together again... not hating each other's guts..."

"I mean, Thomas probably..."

Edward snorted, "Never mind him, at the rate he's going he's more likely to kill himself from stress than deal with his emotional issues."

Matthew gave him a shrewd look, "I would've said the same of you just yesterday."

Edward looked away, trying to hide his the slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. At least his beard helped with that. "Yeah well, I was called out on my bullshit recently so..."

Matthew smiled wryly and opened his mouth to speak up when he felt something move against his leg. A look downwards revealed Ringo, obviously vying for attention. He lowered himself to pet the cat, eyebrows rising. "Well then, hello there. I haven't seen you at all since we came here. Have you been hiding out?"

The cat purred and climbed up to settle on his lap in one swift movement. Somewhat bemused, Matthew accepted his new role as petting bed and a looked up to give a witty remark, only to stop at the sight of Edward's crestfallen face.

“....she's been avoiding me this entire time. I thought it was all three of us she didn't like, because we're new....”

Matthew frowned, “Well, this is the first time I've seen her so maybe she _was_ avoiding all of us?”

Edward slowly reached out to Ringo, only for the cat to immediately flee from his place on Matthew's lap and into the hallway. Edward's hand remained suspended in the air for a moment before he drew it back, looking remarkably upset.

Matthew's frown turned concerned. Edward had taken Ringo's loss pretty hard the first time around. The cat rejecting him now wasn't helping things with the man's mental state. “...maybe it's because you're so much like Edd but at the same time not much at all? SHe might just be confused and wary.”

Edward shook his head as if to clear it, visibly suppressing any further reaction with a sigh. A strange, heavy silence fell over them for several moments as he composed himself.

“...what if we _do_ go back?”

Matthew took a moment to reply, taken off guard by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“To our present, the future, whatever. Thomas has been trying so hard to find a way back, and maybe he'll succeed, or maybe something else will fling us back.” when his eyes met Matthew's they were hard, “What then?”

Matthew found himself at a loss. Somehow, despite returning as soon as possible having been his initial intention while staying here, he hadn't considered the possibility at all in the last few days. What _if_ they got back with Edward in tow? Would he play his role of a good little soldier and turn him in? Would he decide to go against Red Leader once again?

... _did_ he want to go back at all?

“What are we to each other, Matthew? And what would we be back in our own time?” Edward continued, gaze flinty.

“I... I don't... know...”

The current ambiguity between them was dangerous, as was the ambivalence within Matthew. If given the choice, would he actually go back to their time? Was his mission even important to him right now? Was his position? Would he risk it all to stay in simpler times?

“I... I...” his sight half blurred as his left eye was clouded by tears. He looked back at Edward, who now seemed surprised and concerned. “Edward... I... I don't want... know... what do I do?”

Matthew's face twisted wretchedly and Edward's softened, the other man's sorrow and confusion reflected on himself. Before he could even think to stop himself, he pulled the now crying ginger into an embrace, an echo of sweeter times and similar moments overlaid on the present in his mind.

“Hey, it's alright, never mind that. We'll just... we'll just deal with it as it comes, yeah?” he muttered in an attempt to comfort him.

The truth was, he didn't know either.

Did he have it in him to continue the fight? To keep on fleeing?

To point his gun at Matthew with serious intent?

With the way this place softened him, would he even be able to shoot Thomas? _Tord_?

Where did they even stand anymore?

 


	15. Edd Contemplates a Bunch of Weirdos

Edd lay in bed, contemplating the past week or so.

This had all been Edd's idea to begin with, and he stood by it.

That didn't mean he'd thought any further than ' _let's not leave our future selves alone on the streets if they're going to be stuck in this time'_. In truth, he had no idea what to do about those three. Their original intention had obviously been returning to their own time as soon as possible, but once that had proven less than possible it seemed Matthew and Edward had simply settled in.

This whole thing was supposed to be short-term, but Edd wondered if they shouldn't be making plans for long-term accommodations instead. The more days passed the less likely it seemed that Thomas would be able to reconstruct a time machine or find his army and by extension whoever invented the first one, and the more comfortable Matthew and Edward seemed to be with their situation.

He... wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

Thomas obviously wanted to go back, and was dealing with his failure to do so rather terribly. The man was aggressive and hostile, aloof at best, and aside from the few outbursts he'd had he didn't seem willing to really open up and become a part of the household. He seemed entirely devoted to getting back to Red Leader (a title that made Edd feel all sorts of complicated things he didn't care to examine right now) with Edward in tow as a prisoner.

And then of course there was the fact that Tom seemed to absolutely resent him. And that initially both he and Matt had seen their counterparts as a threat to Edd. There was something about Thomas that Tom disliked to an oddly fervent extreme, and that made Edd somewhat wary (he was very carefully not thinking about the easy show of violence upon Edward, he didn't want to consider the implications).

Thomas' state was... concerning. While Edd felt distantly proud of him for apparently staying sober for four whole years, he seemed to have replaced that particular addiction with a worryingly blind devotion to his leader and a drive to work himself as far into the ground as humanly possible. But ever since his collapse and following awakening he'd been... distant, detached, not entirely there. He'd kept on working and looking out for any signs of the possible existence of the Red Army, and he now took the occasional break and slept. But he hadn't spoken a word to anyone since shortly after having woken up and had locked himself in the room thereafter.

Edd hadn't seen him since.

Of course, him locking himself in meant that Edward got to sleep on the sofa and Matthew...

Well, Matthew was a whole other can of worms.

The divide between his friends' future selves and his own had been rather clear from the beginning, even before they found out the reason. However, after Edward and Matthew's little shouting match regarding culpability and both of their respective breakdowns, the ginger's stance had seemed to shift ever so slowly. The hostility and coldness had starting ebbing out, giving way for a more vain, upbeat personality that Edd was much more familiar with. He wasn't anywhere near Matt's level of energy, of course (and seemed to have a thousand and one insecurities piled up on what remained of his vanity), he was calmer, more focused and much more reserved. There were layers to him that Matt lacked and old parts of him that had faded to mere shades.

He also seemed to really like Matt.

_A lot_ .

Edd... wasn't entirely sure what to think of that, same as he wasn't sure what to think of the fact that apparently he and Edward had been...  _well_ .

_(He wasn't even going to get into that whole Eduardo issue. Nope nope nopitty nope.)_

So he had listened in a bit through the door, sue him. He'd been worried.

Lately, though, Matthew seemed to be brightening and opening up, mostly thanks to Matt. His expressions were softer now, and warmer. He seemed to care a bit more for his appearance too. And having the two of them next to each other like that, the way it contrasted Matthew's new calm contentment and Matt's loving enthusiasm... Edd could maybe, possibly see what Edward had apparently seen in the man, men, that. _Maybe_. _Possibly_.

(He wasn't entirely oblivious to the glances he'd been getting from the older ginger, of course. He just wasn't quite ready to address them yet. Or acknowledge them. At all. Ever.)

And then of course there was Edward.

Edd didn't know if there was some sort of official intergalactic rule out there on how to act and feel about your own future self, but he sure as hell hadn't seen one yet. This made everything simultaneously easier and harder.

Edward was tired of life, of people, of everything. He wore bitterness and apathy like a second skin and seemed to take great pleasure in their inability to turn him in to the dictatorial regime he'd apparently been opposing for a decade or so.

And he was suicidal.

Too much of a coward to make himself eat lead, but too sick of everything to continue existing. So instead, sleep deprived and half mad, he'd stolen a time machine from a highly fortified Red Army base and tried to commit suicide by paradox. And failed.

And then, suddenly, he'd been offered an escape from the madness. A more permanent stay in a time that hadn't been fucked up beyond repair yet.

As much as he'd tried to be closed up, the house and its inhabitants seemed to bring out long buried things from within him, feelings and memories and thoughts. He'd become warmer, more content, more approachable. The past that haunted him so and weighed down on his shoulders seemed to lighten just the slightest bit with every interaction he'd had with the man.

And Edd... Edd was glad for him. He'd been apprehensive at the thought of his future self being abused and imprisoned by his own friends, it had felt so _wrong_ as a mere concept. And while Edward wasn't the man he wanted to become in fifteen years, he was undeniably still a part of Edd in a way, and that made Edd feel... slightly protective. Being close to Edward gave him a strange sense of security, and he hoped that maybe offering up his home had at least given him a sense of safety and freedom to rest.

_(And yet again he'd ignore the whole Eduardo affair because soooooo much nope.)_

In the mere days they'd spent here they'd all changed, both their demeanor and their physical appearance (looking like a tough, rugged time traveler was all well and good but T-shirts and sweaters made  _everyone_ feel more comfortable with the arrangement). Edd thought to himself, if this situation was to become a permanent, that he wouldn't mind too much with the way things were progressing – or not progressing as it were, in the case of Thomas' work.

There was an uncertainty to all six of them right now, an ambiguity none of them knew how to clear up. There was baggage and talks and some things raised more questions than gave answers and it was all around a pretty unknown territory for all of them. But maybe it'd work out in the end.

Of course, ultimately, there was one person he'd been avoiding thinking about lately.

Red Leader.

Tord.

Tord who had left three years ago with no warning and they hadn't heard from him since.

Tord who would eventually raise an army to take over the world.

Tord who was somewhere out there, hidden away from Thomas' best attempts at finding him.

Tord who was currently the Schrödinger's Cat of morality and sanity to them.

Tord, whom Edd really, desperately needed to talk to.

After the many revelations of the past week or so, the name carried with it a new messy bundle of tangled emotions that Edd couldn't even begin to unravel. There was a sense of betrayal, a hint of anger and a taint of sorrow. But there was also fondness and affection and confusion and so, so much hope.

It all hinged on hope in the end.

He wasn't sure where he stood on their going back to their time, but he did wish that Thomas would eventually find Tord, sooner rather than later. Because then he was going to hunt his idiot communist friend down, he was going to find him, bring him back.

And then they were going to have a nice, long  _talk_ .

Edd refused to give up on this, no matter how accepting Matthew and Thomas were or how defeated Edward seemed.

He had a friend to bring back to his senses.

On that solemn note, Edd's mind went silent, drifting off to the land of dreams.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little glimpse into edd's head. it was hard to pepper his thoughts throughout the story when most of the time i narrated him from an outside persepctive, so instead i just clutteredhis inner perspective into one chapter. a lil bit of introspection and inner development before more drama and revelations come crashing down upon us all.
> 
> my motivation feeds off comments and boy is it hungry!!! help the starving childre- er, muses!!


	16. Classic Stupid Tom

Tom was pissed.

He was also drunk.

Neither of these were new to him, but nevertheless they were both part of his present state.

Why, you ask? Well that would depend on which part you're referring to. Tom was drunk because he had an obvious drinking problem and had been under a lot of stress lately.

Tom was pissed because someone had taken his vodka.

Oh it wasn't the real good stuff, that was in a safe in his room along with Susan (except Susan was currently on his bed since he'd just been playing). But it was still his stash and no one had even  _asked_ for some and now three out of five bottles were suddenly gone. Poof. Disappeared. Vanished into the ether.

He was also pretty sure he hadn't drunk them and then forgotten because otherwise the empty bottles would have been in his room and, well, they weren't. So.

Someone had taken his vodka.

His suspicions currently lay mostly on Edward as he had been the only person in recent memory to take some of his... had it been gin? He wasn't entirely sure. And also because his critical and deductive thinking was currently somewhat impaired. Alcohol will do that to you.

Tom grumbled some rather unflattering things under his breath as he grabbed one of the two remaining bottles from the kitchen cupboard and headed back to his room. No sooner had he sat down on his bed, however, than he heard a loud thump and a groan from right outside his door.

He frowned in consternation and sighed, heaving himself up to an unstable standing position and walking back towards the door. He didn't immediately see anyone upon opening it, but another groan prompted him to look down.

There, lying on the ground in a pitiful heap and in the middle of a rather pathetic attempt at getting back up, was Thomas.

Well, shit.

Tom lowered himself to crouch beside the man who he hadn't seen since his rather eventful collapse. Thomas looked pretty awful. The old blue shirt that Tom had unwillingly loaned him (what the fuck Edd) was wrinkled and sported a few stains and wet spots, his hair was all over the place, his fly was open and his visor was askew on his face.

All in all he was a mess.

And his apparent disorientation, how his LED eyes squinted unevenly and the way he seemed to miscalculate his movements...

Tom's eyebrows went up to his hairline as he instinctively raised a hand to steady Thomas before he fell on his face again.

“Are you _drunk_?”

The disbelief and irritation in his tone went completely over Thomas' head as he took an inordinately long time to process the question and formulate an answer. “Naaawwww, just bit, bit buzzed. I don't, uhhhh...”

'Formulate' being a rather generous term here.

Tom mentally corrected himself. Thomas wasn't drunk.

He was absolutely hammered.

“Aren't you supposed to be clean? Sober for four years and all that shit?” Tom asked, hand still supporting the other man's shoulder as he braced himself on his right arm.

“Ahhhhh, y'know, fuck that. I just... just need another drink...” was his rather eloquent response.

Tom rolled his eyes and...wait, was that where his vodka had suddenly disappeared off to? Ahhh fuck this guy, seriously.

Ah.

“Wait, did you drink three fifths of my vodka stash _all at once_?”

Thomas gave a breathy giggle, “Hahaaaaaaai wish. Third fell'n broke. Too baaaad but I need... what was- a drink! The kitchen...” he startled up, attempting to stand but ultimately falling heavily back down on his arm. His other hand went to his head as his face lowered almost to the ground. “Fuuuuuck...”

Tom frowned. This was... off-putting. Not only had Thomas apparently broken his four years of sobriety, he'd downed what he presumed to be two whole bottles of the cheap stuff in the course of maybe an evening, stone cold. Plus Tom was pretty sure he wasn't such a loopy drunk usually.

He looked down the hallway but decided that the guest room and the bathroom were ultimately too far away for him to reliably carry the man around without having the both of them tumble face-first into the ground. With a grumble and a frown of displeasure, Tom lifted Thomas' torso as far as he dared and slowly dragged him into his room, leaving him to lean against his bed on the floor as he closed the door.

He grabbed a bucket in a corner of the room that was meant specifically for situations like this, although it was usually for himself, but he guessed they weren't that terribly off the mark in that regard. He was just in time too, since the moment he placed the bucket in front of Thomas the man proceeded to relieve his stomach of its mostly liquid contents. He spent a good five minutes bent over the bucket, heaving and panting from the exertion. Tom would've felt bad for him but he didn't have particularly generous thoughts in regards to this man.

Tom sighed, irritated by the unwelcome interruption to his evening, and grabbed his own bottle, sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard. Now he definitely needed the stuff. He spared a look at Susan, who lay abandoned beside him on the bed from when he had left her to restock for the evening. He picked her up, setting the bottle down on his night stand and in his immediate reach for later use, and started strumming the bass guitar. A random yet almost melodic sound filled the room for several minutes and managed to calm him down, his audience almost forgotten.

However he noticed a glace snuck at Susan and sneered, grumbling,”Play your own.” as he kept on playing. The man looked back down.

“Why do you hate me?” the quiet question was sudden and made him flick a chord entirely the wrong way. Tom stopped playing and considered the older man for a moment, taking in his hunched shoulders, the wince on his face and the hand supporting his head and keeping it steady.

Maybe it was the quiet of the night or maybe it was the drinks he'd already had, but Tom decided his main mission today wasn't to antagonize the man before him. So instead he told the truth.

“I don't hate you.”

A flinch, “But-”

“I don't _like_ you. You're aggressive and violent, something of a traitor, you act like you're above everyone else. You're pretty much a version of me I never want to see myself become.” he paused, “But I don't hate you. That'd take too much energy.”

“Sure does seem like it...” Thomas muttered and Tom almost didn't catch the slurred speech.

He sighed, setting Susan down on his lap and taking a swig from the bottle beside him. “Look, I just don't like what you've... done with your life. And I can't really understand it either. And it makes me mad. But I also realized I don't really know anything on your reasons so...” he shrugged and gulped down some more cheap liquor in the hopes that it'd make him pass out before he said something about feelings that he'd absolutely regret in the morning.

There was a moment of silence as Thomas shifted, setting the bucket beside him as they both valiantly ignored the smell and laying his head back on the side of the bed.

“...he was th'only thing I knew for years.”

Tom blinked. “What?”

Thomas' electronic lids fell shut, as if shutting out the world.

“Tord. I... I was going blind. Eye cancer's shit.” he chuckled a bit, gaining coherency, “Edd- Edward- didn't want me on the field-”

“He told me.” Tom interjected without meaning to. “Uh... about the attack. And you disappearing.”

“...ah.” Thomas was silent, as if considering his words carefully with the absence of his usual filter in place. “Something... happened in that battlefield. Maybe I hit my head, maybe the cancer progressed t'my fucking brain, I don't know. But when I woke up... I couldn't even remember my own name.”

Oh.

Oh  _shit_ .

Tom was in no way equipped to deal with this, shit. Fuck his morbid curiosity, knowing the future was a fucking curse.  _Ugh_ .

“Tord... took me in. Had my cancer treated and brought to a stop mostly. Gave me back my vision.” he traced a finger down the edge of the visor, “He said he knew me. That we were friends. So... we were. He was... the only link I had to myself.”

Tom's hands had tightened to white-knuckled fists by this point, arms trembling slightly. From his vantage point he could barely make out the tremulous smile forming on the older man's face and it made him want to puke for reasons entirely unrelated to the now extremely tempting bottle sitting beside him on his night stand.

“I joined the Red Army because he wanted me to. I climbed up the ranks.... he liked to praise me. It was nice. And then I'd mess up. That's when I left his office with bruises.” his voice sounded increasingly detached, as if he was distancing himself from his own terrible tale. “He said he loved me...” was said in a hoarse whisper.

Tom was staring down at Susan on his lap, unable to look at the man. All the alcohol in his veins wasn't helping him deal with this at all.

“...why are you telling me this?”

That startled a laugh out of Thomas, shrill and wet and almost hysterical. “I don't know.” he said, a tremble in his voice, “Maybe I just needed to tell someone who wouldn't fucking pity me. An absolute idiot in love with the man who lied to me, hurt me, turned me on my friends. And yet...” he looked down at the floor, shoulders trembling. “It was so stupid. I said I wanted to go back, and yet... I was hoping I could find him, the Tord of this time. That maybe... that maybe he wouldn't be so... so...  _cruel_ , so hurtful. Just... a stupid delusion. Classic  _stupid_ Tom...” by now he was sobbing quietly into his hand, a wet trail running down his cheeks from beneath his visor.

Thomas... represented a lot of things that Tom resented. There were a lot of things the man did and represented that Tom didn't agree with at all. But in that moment he couldn't bring himself to care, sliding down into the floor beside him and letting him grip the front of his hoodie like a lifeline.

He'd just blame it on the alcohol come morning.

But for now, angry and frustrated and confused, he let himself be a comfort to another.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont... particularly like how this chapter came out. that conversation couldve flowed better at least. oh well, here you have most of the full story behind Thomas' disappearance and subsequent betrayal. and also finally a crying thomas (about time). hes gonna feel all that vodka in the morning tho. natural tolerance or not, years of sobriety arent exactly the precendent you want to two fucking bottles of the cheap stuff (im stretching things here cause im relatively sure that would be absolutely lethal to a lot of people, tom just has cartoonish tolerance)
> 
> heeeeeey wanna know my creative process for this fic? 1. receive validation through comments. 2. ????? 3. Profit!  
> (too on the nose? sry its like 2 am haha fuck me)


	17. Memories

Tom wasn't feeling terribly peachy in the morning, but that was a given and a relatively normal part of his routine. He'd been initially confused as to the body lying beside him on the bed when he'd woken up, but it hadn't taken him too long to remember last night and all the terrible truths that came with it. After quickly cleaning out his emergency bucket in the bathroom and setting it back down on the side of the bed where Thomas' unconscious body lay, he went to the kitchen.

A glass of water and an aspirin later, he found himself frying some eggs with a more than generous amount of butter and exactly two stripes of bacon (any more at a time and Edd would hunt him down). As he waited patiently for the eggs to finish, Edward entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, one hand supporting the full weight of his head while other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Is some of that for me?" he asked hopefully, suppressing a yawn.

Tom didn't even turn around as he answered, uttering a deadpan "Nope."

Edward seemed more awake now and looked at him inquisitively for a moment. "Is it for Blue?"

Tom blinked in slight confusion before making the connection and snorting, "Why do you call him that anyway?"

Edward paused at that, seemingly contemplative, before he answered with a shrug, "Ah... force of habit I guess."

 _Blue Reaper_ had been the nickname Thomas had earned himself among the ranks of the rebellion, a twisted parody to fit him in the same class as Red Leader, a title always mentioned in fearful, panicked whispers.

It was easier for Edward to call him by a pseudonym than the name he'd previously used for a friend. After the sixth time the guy had almost shot him dead, he'd desperately needed that emotional detachment.

_(It was the same reason why he only ever called the world's new tyrant Red.)_

"So, is it?" he asked again.

Tom gave him weird look but turned back to the sizzling pan, nodding. "How'd you know?"

"Well, the guest room was empty when I went to the bathroom just now, I was wondering if he was in anyone else's. Seems like something happened..."

If Edward noticed his hesitation he didn't show it."...he collapsed in front of my door last night after downing two bottles of vodka."

Edward's eyebrows went up to his hairline, eyes widening slightly. "I thought he was..."

"Yeah."

"Oh." his brow furrowed in thought, "Should I..." he wondered aloud, caught somewhere between apprehension and something akin to hope, but not quite.

Tom shook his head, "I think you'd just make it worse. Maybe Matthew..."

He cut himself off as Edward winced, "I don't think Matthew's really in any state to deal with someone else's problems right now."

Tom pressed a hand to his face, "Ugh, fucking dammit."

He noticed the food was done and turned the stove off, dividing it between two plates and heading back to his room with another glass of water and an aspirin, all the while feeling Edward's stare burning its way into his skull.

Entering his room, he was notified that Thomas was awake by way of an agonized groan coming from the tightly huddled bundle of old man on the bed. Tom made sure to close the door quietly and Thomas seemed to relax a bit once the light from the hallway stopped filtering into the room.

Carefully, Tom set down the plates on his nightstand, opposite the side Thomas was lying on, and sat down on the empty side of the bed, body facing the miserable bundle of blankets and water and pill in hand.

"You need to drink something."

His only answer were a groan and a mumble and he sighed in slight irritation, reaching over to shake the man. This prompted some more miserable mumbling before Thomas finally gave up and struggled to a sitting position at Tom's behest, all the while rubbing all over his temples and forehead as if to soothe the pain.

"You're evil incarnate." Thomas muttered resentfully and Tom chuckled.

"You know, that's actually the second time someone has called me that in the last few days."

"I bet it was deserved..."

"It was Edward."

"...oh."

With that Tom shoved the glass of water and the pill into his hands and watched critically as Thomas downed both of them before taking one of the still steaming plates and presenting it to him. Thomas recoiled, lips twisted in disgust at the terrible sight of two eggs on toast and a strip of bacon.

"I don't really think I can stomach anything."

Tom rolled his eyes, "I know you're out of practice but you should know how this goes. It's not like I have much of an appetite either."

Thomas sighed reluctantly but relented, grabbing the plate and nibbling at a corner of the bread. Tom grabbed his own plate and took a hearty, greasy bite. The sooner he got this over with the sooner his insides would stop rebelling. They ate in silence for the most part and Tom finished up in minutes.

"You're being oddly nice."

Tom snorted, "I'm being a decent person who knows quite literally exactly how awful you feel right now."

"We were screaming profanities at each other a week ago."

"...I still don't like you, not really. But..." Tom sighed, "...it's hard to lay all the blame on you after last night."

Thomas shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. He could barely remember last night, but he did know he'd probably spilled one too many secrets.

"And this is your first hangover in years, and a bad one at that, I should at least help you through that." Tom added, sensing Thomas' discomfort. He usually wasn't one to sugarcoat or soften the blow, but he really didn't know how to act around Thomas anymore and it made this whole thing rather awkward for him.

"Thanks..." Thomas muttered, still nibbling away at his food.

Tom fidgeted a bit, a question burning in his throat before he finally decided to just ask. "Do you really not remember anything from... before?"

Thomas tensed but sighed, as if resigned to this situation, "I do, actually."

Tom startled, "But you said-"

"I had amnesia." Thomas interrupted just to get this over with, "For about two and a half years. And then my memories started coming back to me bit by bit."

"...then you knew he was lying to you."

Thomas started nodding but regretted it immediately, wincing. "I did."

Tom looked incredulous. "Why didn't you just _leave_?"

Thomas sighed and set the plate down on his lap, electric green eyes looking anywhere but him, "...I considered it, and I asked myself the same question for months. But in the end... I couldn't do it. Tord... he's a bastard, and a part of me hated him for everything he's done to us, to _me_ . But I... I've saved his life many times before, and without me there... I just couldn't bear the thought of him dying, of, of _losing_ him..."

Tom grimaced in borderline disgust, but also in concern. "You've got it _bad_."

Thomas chuckled bitterly. "Tell me about it."

Tom frowned, "It's so _strange_ to hear... I can't even _imagine_.... ugh." he gave up after a few false starts, covering his face with one hand in mild embarrassment.

Thomas' small laugh was a bit lighter this time. "Oh believe me, it was weird for me too when I first remembered."

"Does he know?"

The amused smile froze on Thomas' face, "Ah... no. I was...too terrified to tell him. I guess I still am. There's a delicate balance between us, I wouldn't want to upset it."

Tom shot him a doubtful look that barely masked his concern. "If that's what you want to call it..."

Thomas wordlessly picked his plate back up and kept eating. He was silent throughout the rest of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaand here's everything i didnt manage to fit into last chapter, plus a lil bonus of tom and thomas having a sober, civil conversation
> 
> your comments keep my motivation alive and are greatly appreciated!!!!!!!! also if you wanna talk to me, about this fic or literally anything else, I'm on tumblr, also as Lunahras ^^


	18. This Time It's Mark's Fault

Matthew Harvest was loyal to Red Leader.

That was an indisputable fact. The man was often cruel and ruthlessly efficient, but after working closely with him for years, Matthew had gotten to see softer, more vulnerable sides of him, sides that he’d thought lost in the hazy warmth of memories long past.

They’d been _friends_ once, and in the fog of bitterness and betrayal that had surrounded him since The End of their carefree days, Matthew had felt them become something akin to friends once more. It would never be the same, of course. Both him and Thomas were his subordinates now, bound by oath and threat of severe punishment to serve him. And Tord wasn’t the same either. None of them were, really, but Tord… had probably changed the most out of all of them.

_(And even without that it would never be the same anyway, missing the very core of their group as they were. Tord made for a decent heart, but he was never and could never be Edd.)_

Matthew didn’t care to pry into their lives either, so whatever there was between Thomas and Tord could very well stay between them. And if that meant treating Thomas for injuries he hadn’t gotten in the field and holding him as he wept his way into dreamland, well, Thomas would do the same for him, _did_ do the same often enough.

They were loyal, in the end. Because without Edward and without Tord, they would simply fall apart. Follow orders, strive for success, don’t complain too much, have a nice afternoon watching movies once a week or so, tell your stories and pout when they laugh at your face instead of your tale.

It was _so easy_ to fall into that wary rapport.

But now he was stuck in the past, having the weirdest crushes of his life at almost forty, having talked things out with Edward, seeing Thomas fall apart, and no Red Leader in sight.

Suddenly nothing was easy.

The lines that had been so clear in the past few years were now blurred beyond recognition and the firm grasp he’d had on his understanding of reality and the world around him was now barely a touch.

That Matthew felt a bit lost was an understatement.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, how he’d act in certain situations, he didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. His place in the world and with those around him wasn’t quite solid and he found himself floating around with nothing to tether him. Floating and moving with no end in sight and no one to help and-

Matthew sighed, forcibly stopping that train of thought before he worked himself into a panic attack. That was really the last thing he needed right now. He knew he’d have to really think it through at some point, but he already felt mentally exhausted at the prospect.

He was in such a daze he only noticed someone was sitting in the living room by the time he practically bumped against the sofa. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t Edward, who had all but taken over the living room, but Thomas. And he seemed to be in the middle of… gun maintenance?

…

Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

Oops.

Matthew may or may not have forgotten he even _had_ a gun. Actually he wasn’t particularly sure _where_ it was, seeing as it had been in his clothes when they’d disappeared after he’d showered. The clothes were still hanging outside because no one had bothered to take them down yet, but he somehow doubted there was still a weapon somewhere in that mess of clothing (if there had been the washing machine had possibly destroyed the stupidly delicate thing, a thought that made Matthew slightly ill seeing as it was also somewhat ridiculously expensive to craft).

For that matter, did Edward still have his weapon? Thomas obviously had his. Was Matthew the only-

“Are you going to do something or are you going to keep standing there like an idiot?” Thomas questioned with a raised eyebrow and more than a little tired amusement in his tone, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

He laughed sheepishly, feeling a bit awkward as he made no attempt to sit down with the man. He took another look at Thomas, disheveled but somehow less tense than he’d been in a while. “Got tired of four walls and a window?” he snarked back, feeling himself soothingly settle back into a familiar pattern.

Thomas seemed to appreciate the relative normalcy as well, as his shoulders lowered the slightest bit and the slight furrow in his brow smoothed out. He looked back towards his work, lest he do something stupid without looking.

“I guess I did.”

As a wry smile started stretching out on Matthew’s face he caught a whiff of…

“Thomas, have you been drinking?”

Thomas very nearly touched a circuit he was most definitely not supposed to touch and groaned into his hand. “Why does everyone seem to know that today?”

Matthew looked at him concernedly, “You reek of alcohol.”

“Ah… yeah, that’d do it.” Thomas grimaced. “Look, I had a relapse. It was awful, I desperately regret it, it won’t happen again.”

Matthew frowned, “Are you quite sure?”

“Positive.” Thomas replied, still looking intently at what his hands where doing.

The ginger hummed doubtfully but decided not to pursue the matter. It was a sensitive topic and he really shouldn’t be poking around it too much. He looked around in the otherwise empty room. There was no one talking or puttering in the kitchen either, nor out in the hallway.

“Say, where is…” _Edward_ , he very nearly said, but stopped himself at the last second. Something told him that inquiring about the technically-still-a-criminal-of-the-state to Thomas wouldn’t be the smartest move. Thankfully, he didn’t actually need to finish his sentence.

“Everyone’s out in the backyard.” Thomas said lightly.

“Thanks.” Matthew smiled awkwardly (and that was saying something when any movement of his mouth already looked plenty awkward) and headed to the backdoor.

‘Out in the backyard’ apparently meant talking to the neighbours nowadays, at least when Edward was involved. He seemed to be sharing a rather pleasant conversation with Jon and Eduardo, though going by the look on Eduardo’s face it could have just as well been a bout of passive-aggressive flirt-taunting with Jon’s amused support.

A bit further down the fence Mark and Matt seemed to be having an argument of some sort. Tom’s especially bored expression and Edd’s severely unimpressed air were all he needed to know it was probably about some beauty product or another.

Matthew huffed out an amused breath and meandered towards the second group.

“-hy would you even _buy_ that brand? Everything they say is false advertisement, their eyeliner doesn’t even hold properly for longer than five hours!”

“It _would_ if you knew how to apply _anything_ properly, which you obviously don’t!”

“You take that back!”

_Bingo._

Matthew came to a stop beside Edd, who seemed to have gotten bored of the heated exchange before them and was looking towards the other trio in a mix of gleeful amusement and a cringing grimace. Matthew chuckled.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t get it either.”

Edd startled and whipped his head around to look at him, a blush of embarrassment spreading across his face that Matthew found rather nostalgically adorable. Edd made a valiant attempt a gaining conscious control of his circulatory system and rerouting his blood anywhere but his face. A failed attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. He coughed awkwardly and looked back at the other group.

“...it’s just so _weird_.” he finally said, grimace barely winning out over glee.

Matthew nodded as he followed his gaze, “Yeah, I’ve never known what he sees in the guy either.”

“And do you know what he saw in you?” Edd quirked an eyebrow as he looked back at the ginger, mildly embarrassed by the subject but unwilling to let it show.

Matthew’s face turned melancholic as his gaze turned inwards, to the past…

_Soft, soft kisses and caresses and whispered words coated in honey, praise raining on him like so much diamond dust. And he felt like he was shining, the brightest star in the firmament, sweet words like candied gems dripping onto him one after the other and he could barely take it-_

“I have… an idea.” Matthew said noncommittally.

Edd actually looked curious at that and seemed about to ask something, but stopped when Mark’s now louder voice cut through the yard.

“-hell, Matt! Is _that_ what you’re supposed to look like in the future?! I almost feel bad for you. Though the new jaw might actually be an improvement on your square abomi-”

“Shut up.”

No one was talking anymore. The yard  fell into a glacial silence as everyone stared somewhere between Matthew and the now frozen Mark.

Matthew turned his head very slowly to look at the blond, feeling his fangs and claws elongate and his eye turn a blazing, furious crimson. When he talked, his voice sounded smooth and whispery, low, icy tones dripping down his tongue like icicles.

“You know.” he drawled, taking in Mark’s slowly widening eyes and and the slight scent of terror in the air with pleasure, “I haven’t had fresh blood in a _while._ It’d be nice to get another taste.” he sneered, watching said blood drain from the man’s face.

“M-Matthew, wait!” Matt snapped out of his shocked daze, moving in front of his older counterpart, “Don’t do this!”

Matthew was interrupted mid-growl by a hand grasping the back of his sweater. He looked back and spotted Edd, an alarmed and concerned expression on his face.

"Hey, come on, I know he's an idiot but it was just a stupid comment." he shot Mark a dirty look to which he stepped back hesitantly.

Matthew borderline glared at him for one terrifying moment as if looking for something, before his expression crumpled into one of recognition and astonished dismay.

"Oh no." his voice was barely audible, claws and fangs retracting as he took a step back. He lost control again, his anger got the better of him, he'd almost attacked-!

_Why couldn't he just control himself?_

Before anyone could try and stop him he turned on his heel and fled, jumping the fence and leaving their sight in seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter went completely off the rails and ran off without me what the fuck just happened


	19. Questions Unasked and Unanswered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooo i got a lot of not entirely positive shocked reactions to the endingof last chapter, which i can totally understand because it took me by surprise too  
> here's my brain's overnight attempt to justify and clarify i guess

_Rage became an uncomfortably familiar feeling to him in the past two years or so. He's becoming increasingly unstable as time goes by and his triggers grow in number with every week that passes. Tord is incredibly amused, Tom less so._

_Originally it's all about Edd. Of course, everything's about Edward Gold's traitorous ass nowadays, isn't it? Leader of the fucking revolution, whoop-dee-doo. The mention of a name in sidelined conversations, a flash of green and brown, and he can feel his bitter anger burning him up from the inside out._

_Then Edd shoots out his eye and things... are different. His previous reassurance that the metal prosthetic on his jaw doesn't diminish his worth is gone (it was gifted to him by Edd, with kind eyes and a gentle smile that told him everything was okay and he wasn't any less beautiful for it, of course it's gone). Suddenly the whispers around him gain in volume and grab his attention. The Cyborg Lieutenant, it's said in jest. With a metal jaw and a cybernetic eye, how broken must he be, what shall he break next, what on earth makes him so assured of his own looks._

_He's a broken freakshow for everyone to gawk at and it's all Edd's fault, really. Because if he didn't start the revolution or if he was smarter about it maybe his jaw could've been spared, or saved, a few scars instead of a metallic maw. But no, because Edd charges in without thinking and it usually works out for him. Because his harebrained plans get people hurt or killed but at least they succeed, right?! Because Edd started a movement with no resources at his disposal and never cared to fix that._

_And now he's ruined Matt's eye as well and the Red Army doesn't do aesthetically pleasing and natural, they do intimidating and weaponized so of course he gets a shiny new laser eye that he absolutely hates. And now he knows what people think because for once he actually listens to those around him and their ugly, poisoned words._

_His rage builds and blazes like a raging forest fire. He becomes snappish and moody, more prone to aggression. It builds and builds until it manages to blind him. Sometimes he blacks out for a moment or two and wakes up in a wrecked room (sometimes it's a wrecked person)._

_The first time he kills someone in a blind rage it's one of the prisoners he's been given by their oh so gracious leader to feed on. Usually he's careful not to take too much. If he can't feed humanely then he can at least take care of his food source (and the blood is so warm so warm so sweet ahhhh it slides smoothly down his throat so fresh). But this prisoner is new, a revolutionary, and catches Matt in a terribly foul mood as he enters the cell to feed. He recognizes him obviously, hard to forget his leader's (third)second-in-command and lover, and he spews vitriol in Matt's face like he was born for it, throwing accusations of betrayal like candy on Halloween, and he takes them with a mere growl because he has to control himself._

_And then he says_

                           “ _I don't know why he took you, when you look like that. Though hey, the new eye's almost an improvement.”_

_And Matt freezes, fangs hovering over a restrained arm._

_Something snaps._

_He wakes up soaked and sticky and soooooo sweet the whole cell smells delicious and there's barely a body left bone and flesh and splatters and no no no no no_ no no no

No.

He had no time to lose himself in flashbacks. That wasn't him, he'd gotten better, that wasn't him. His rage was gone, suppressed, faded, replaced with dull bitterness and exhaustion. The anger was tempered, had been for years. The red red red of  _blood_ flames had been replaced with stale gray. He was made of dullness and melancholy now.

stOP

BrEathE

He could feed and not lose control. He could take insults and not lose control. He wasn't made of anger, there was no forest to set ablaze anymore. There was nothing to blind him.

_Then what was that before?_

_Was he going to kill MArk tOo?_

_WOuld hE aTtaCk edD?_

He took a deep breath, cringing slightly at the many unpleasant scents of the city that filtered into his nose.

_Wasn't it Edd's fault anyway?_

No no no no this Edd was young so young so sweet and so was Mark, asshole or not, they were so young, they had done nothing to-

_And Edward?_

They'd talked they'd talked there'd been apologies and maybe some forgiveness he was so  _tired_ of being angry why cOuldN't he JusT sToP-

He ran like he ran from his problems and his feelings and his fears and his anger that  _should have been dead long gone and buried_

                                                                “ _almost an improvement”_

The blazing flames in his veins had been doused, the almost fearful look on _younguntainted_ Edd's face had been too much. He had to flee had to get away it shouldn't be back but it was and he didn't know where he stood didn't know what he wanted but he didn't want to hurt them never never

                                                                                                                                          “ _might actually be an improvement”_

He didn't know where he was, the most remembered of this city were ruins, he was running blindly, sight blurring at the edges, breath coming in short gasps.

And suddenly there was a hand around his wrist, thin and freckled, and he flinched and struggled to free himself but it clamped down and he couldn't bring himself to look up into eyes that he knew would be red fading back into blue he wouldn't _let go-_

“-atthew! Please listen to me, you need to calm down!”

Calm down? Calm down.

Matthew didn't think he could calm down.

He backed himself into- a wall? An alley? When did he get here? Still he didn't look up, eyes shutting tightly instead. Another bout of pleas has him shaking his head, pressing his back further into the bricks behind him.

Then he felt another hand around his other wrist, a different hand, thicker and rougher, but keeping his arm in a gentle hold.

“Matthew, please look at me.” said another familiar voice.

He shook his head vehemently once again.

A small sound of frustration and suddenly there was yet another hand on his _coldmetaliron_ chin, lifting it up even as he refused to open his eyes.

“Look at me.” it was said calmly and assertively, and the sheer nostalgic familiarity of the tone prompted his eyes to open to the sight of two very concerned young men. “There you go.” Edd murmured soothingly, the hand on his wrist rising to gently grasp his upper arm even as Matt's hold on him loosened.

“Matthew, breathe.” said the ginger, and with a start he realized he'd been holding his breath. He released it in one shaky huff and inhaled deeply.

“Are you in control of yourself?”

All three of them startled at the voice, looking to the side to find Thomas standing a few feet apart from Edward and Tom, reassembled gun in hand and pointed directly at his head (the gun trembled, his hands shook, but he refused to acknowledge it).

Matthew stared numbly into his distressed, electric green scowl, he stared down the crystalline barrel of the gun, and gave a shaky nod. Thomas immediately dropped his arm with a sigh, shoulders drooping in relief.

_(His hands still shook, they trembled terribly, but he ignored them still.)_

And now that Matthew actually looked at them all, Edd, Tom and Thomas were panting slightly. They... they'd all chased after him?

Edward looked terribly uncertain and at his side Tom just looked as worried as the other two younger men.

“Are you alright?” which brought him back to these two, looking up into his face with seemingly all the concern the world had to offer. Matthew's shoulders sagged.

“...sorry.”

Edd frowned, “That's not an answer.”

Matthew stayed silent. Matt gave Edd a look, which made him sigh and back up slightly, releasing his arm. A slight tug on his other arm had him walking after Matt in silence, Thomas trailing worriedly close behind him (he'd almost call it hovering if that wouldn't earn him a shot to the leg).

The walk back was awkward and long, the silence between them stilted as both Edd and Matt occasionally shot him worried looks and he could feel the other three staring holes into his back.

But when they got home (and he was careful not to look to the neighbours' house) he was just gently shoved onto the sofa and wrapped in a blanket, two warm bodies taking place beside him as someone shoved some hastily made tea into his hands.

As everyone else settled around the living room in expectant quiet, he stared down into his mug.

“I thought this stopped years ago.” Thomas finally pointed out.

“It did.” he replied numbly.

Thomas sighed, “So why did you have everyone freaking out about snapping and threatening to suck Mark dry?” he said with all the tact of an elephant. Matthew flinched but didn't answer, busy suppressing memories that were threatening to resurface. Thomas ran a hand through his hair and sighed again, “You didn't hurt anyone, that's what's important.” he offered, trying to restore some semblance of calm.

Matthew found it odd that no one else had spoken up, and a subtle look around the room revealed burning questions on all their faces, left unasked for his sake. He took a sip of his scalding tea and basked in the warmth at his sides for as long as he could, because he didn't know if he'd be able to provide answers once they inevitably asked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much like last chapter this chapter feels a bit off. oh well
> 
> your comments were pretty helpful yesterday!!!!! please keep 'em coming, they give me motivation and inspiration!!!! also talk to me on tumblr! I'm Lunahras over there too


	20. Sleepy Sunset

In the tense silence that permeated the living room sounds from outside started becoming apparent. Specifically from their front door. Sounds of... an argument? As the conflict outside seemed to escalate and it became obvious that neither Matt nor Edd were planning to get up from their positions sitting at either side of Matthew, Tom grumbled and made to get up. However Thomas sighed quite suddenly and beat him to it, walking briskly towards the door.

He almost wrenched it off its hinges as he opened it, the tension in his body quite apparent. The scene on the other side of the doorway froze in its tracks, making for a rather comical sight. Eduardo's body was facing away from the door, apparently having been reaching for a cowering Mark over Jon's stiff body, stuck between the two caught in a game of cat and mouse.

Currently however, they were all staring at Thomas in something akin to guilty shock, momentarily stuck in their positions. The first to unfreeze was Eduardo who quick as a snake grabbed Mark's arm over Jon's shoulder, eliciting a yelp, and unceremoniously shoved him into the doorway until the blond was mere inches away from Thomas, who stared up at him raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Did you want something?” he drawled.

Mark cringed and turned slightly to slap Eduardo's hands away from his back with a mumbled insult. He then turned back to Thomas and his shoulders hunched, making him appear slightly smaller. His hands fiddled together as he seemed to gather himself.

“Uh, is fut-” he had to swallow another yelp as Jon dug his elbow into Mark's flank, “Uh, Matthew, is he... around?”

Thomas' eyebrows shot up to his hairline before settling back down into a doubtful frown. Still, he half turned and called into the house, “It's Mark.”

There was a moment of since and then a familiar yet slightly deeper tenor called out, “Let him in?” as if seeking for approval, which it seemed to have gotten as Thomas nodded a moment later. He stood aside, opening the door fully so they could step in. Mark entered the house in the most hesitant manner any of the timeline natives had ever seen from him, throwing them a bit for a loop. After him followed a smiling Jon and a rather reluctant Eduardo, who was looking everywhere in the room but at Edward.

Mark stopped dead in his tracks once he caught sight of Matthew and coughed awkwardly into his fist, looking nervously to the side.

“I'm sorry.” Matthew was the first to break the silence, looking straight into Mark's surprised eyes. “For scaring you. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Mark sputtered,”Y-you didn't sc-” he cut himself off as he noticed the very unimpressed stares he was getting from virtually everyone but the elder redhead and sighed, “Yeah, okay. I'm... sorry too. I must've touched a sensitive topic so...yeah, sorry.” he managed to get out, looking off to the side so he wouldn't have to look at the other man's face.

“Well, you apologized to the freak like you wanted to. Time to go.” Eduardo declared, turning around and eliciting a mildly disappointed “Aww.” from Jon.

“You sure you're not staying?” asked Edward in a slow drawl, lids lowered in apparent disinterested boredom but mouth set in a shit-eating grin. His only response was a middle finger as Eduardo walked just a bit faster back to the door. Edward snickered at the barely noticeable embarrassed redness dusting his cheeks.

Mark hesitated for a moment before he followed after his housemates, calling over his shoulder just before the door closed, “That eyeliner is still shitty, though!”

Matt blinked in the wake of the shut door, then scowled. “That prat! He has no taste!”

Matthew chuckled into his mug, taking a sip that sent soothing warmth sliding down his throat and into his belly. Ahh, he was so warm and _so_ tired, honestly after all that _excitement_ and the blessed break from the tension that Mark's short visitation had provided he could barely keep himself awake.

As muttered smatterings of conversation flowed in the air around him, he let himself sink into blissful unconsciousness. Interrogation successfully delayed, hopefully forever. The silly thought brought a small smile to his face as darkness overtook him.

Beside him, Matt finally noticed the older man wasn't quite with them anymore and clicked his tongue, taking the half empty mug from loose fingers and setting it back on the coffee table before it spilled its scalding contents over sensitive skin. His gaze met Edd's on the other side of the sofa, who offered him a conflicted smile and a nod. In unison they lifted Matthew, trying not to jostle him too much.

“He's fallen asleep on us, the sneaky bastard, so we'll take him to bed.” Edd announced into the room at large as they shuffled out into the hallway, leaving behind a contemplative trio. Wordlessly, they brought him into Matt's room and after somehow navigating the messy mountains of paraphernalia laid him on the bed, closer to the wall.

Matt sat on the edge with a huff and Edd followed his example, if a bit slower, still looking at Matthew's sleeping form.

“Isn't it weird?” he asked quietly, not raising his gaze, “To sleep in the same bed every night?”

Matt hummed in thought. “Not... really? I'm not sure how to explain it, but he makes me feel...”

“...safe?” Edd murmured and Matt shot him a searching look before looking up at the ceiling.

“Kinda, yeah. I mean, he's literally me so I guess that'd be why. Though... he has this look on his face sometimes, when he thinks I'm not looking, like... like I'm the brightest thing he's ever seen. Like he's in pain but doesn't want to look away. It's a bit...” he gestured vaguely with his hand, searching for the right word. “...overwhelming? Staggering? I'm not sure...”

Edd raised an eyebrow, “ _You_ scared of self-admiration? What is the world coming to?”

Matt tittered, “Hmm, well I say he's literally me, but he's also... not really. He's more, different. And that kind of look from another person...” he smiled a bit sheepishly, scratching his cheek, “...I'm not used to that.”

Edd seemed stunned at his sudden moment of sincerity, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.

“But then again,” Matt continued, smile turning cat-like as his gaze slid over to Edd, “I'm not the only one, am I?”

Edd froze and almost managed to choke on air, cheeks stained pink, “I have no idea what you're talking about.” he gritted out a levelly as he could.

It was Matt's turn to raise an eyebrow, grin widening, “ _Uh huh_. Come on, Edd, you're not that oblivious.”

“You're confusing me with someone. I'm _so_ oblivious.” Edd still refused to meet his gaze and Matt rolled his eyes.

“You're gonna have to acknowledge it at some point.”

Edd slumped and buried his face in his hands, groaning out something intelligible. “Can't you just leave me in blissful self-imposed ignorance?” came the muffled demand, tone accusatory.

Matt looked down at the sleeping figure beside them, expression softening without him realizing, “...I don't want to see him hurt. I think I've gotten a bit protective.”

Edd looked up from his hands then followed his gaze, mind falling back to faded green, battered leather and tired eyes. He found he could completely understand the sentiment. And, well... he didn't really want to see Matthew hurt either.

He moved to shift a strand of loose hair out of Matthew's eyes without really meaning to, but didn't stop the motion, fingers lingering on his temple for a moment as he took in the pale freckled face, prosthetics and all, with a hum of contemplation. Another hand joined his, threading through the man's soft hair. He peeked at Matt's thoughtful expression from the corner of his eye and removed his hand, leaning back to look, _really look_ at the both of them.

They made for quite the peaceful image, Edd could almost picture it in his mind. Watercolours and pastel chalks, soft warm colours and the shine of a dying sun bathing the room in a reddish golden haze. He'd pay special attention to the freckles scattered on their faces and their light eyelashes, much too long and curled to be entirely natural, to Matt's hand tangled in Matthew's hair and his soft lips as they painted a slow, gentle smile-

Oh.

Oh boy.

Let's _not_.

Edd shrunk a bit into himself, ears burning as he dismissed Matt's questioning look. Still, he stayed where he was, basking in the peaceful warmth of the moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> matthew, dear, you really gotta stop apologizing before the people who want to apologize to you get the chance to. also i was going to have them explain in this chapter, really! it turned shippy all on its own! (edd the artist is easier for me to write and relate to than edd the chaotic neutral catface boi, who woulda thought)
> 
> sooooooooo those who follow me on tumblr (holy hell guys!!!) might already know this? if you scroll up through the story you might notice chapters 4, 10 and 13 contain three shiny new illustrations by yours truly, which is one of the reasons it took a few days to update.
> 
> i'd really appreciate it if you could leave a comment!! either to the chapter or the pics, they keep me motivated!!! ^^ and come talk to me tumblr!! same name as here.


	21. All The Strings That Hold Me Down

“Sooooo you seem to know what all that was about.” Tom drawled, gaze gliding towards Thomas, whose LED eyes shifted uneasily to Edward standing in the corner before settling on Tom.

“Somewhat, yeah.” he admitted, hands nervously fiddling with his fresh _er_ shirt (that he'd gotten from Tom that morning) now that his gun was safely holstered.

The younger man raised an inquiring eyebrow, “Want to explain?”

Thomas tensed a bit and Tom sighed, stealing a peek at Edward as well. It was strange, the position that he currently found himself in. A day ago he would've stood staunchly against Thomas, but in just a night his perspective and attitude had shifted immensely in respect to his future counterpart. And it seemed that after his own attitude had relaxed, Thomas' had as well. He seemed slightly more open to Tom and the constant tension in his frame had lessened a bit.

And so Tom now found himself the most neutral party in the room. He'd never been the mediator of his friend group, that had always been Edd, so this entire situation was uncharted territory to him.

Surprisingly, Thomas did start talking after a few minutes of thoughtful silence, looking up at him.

“Matthew has... something like anger issues, I guess.”

“What, like you?” it slipped out without thinking and Tom clamped his mouth shut. Thomas didn't seem offended though, simply giving a vague nod.

“A bit, except he doesn't actually deal with it at all.”

Tom tilted his head, secretly wishing he'd thought to bring his flask with him. This was going to be a _feelings_ talk, he just knew it, and he was much too sober for this shit.

Thomas shrugged, “Matthew... doesn't like anger. After his first few years with the Red Army he's been suppressing it as much as he can, not letting it show if at all possible. Before that it used to be... pretty bad.”

“How so?” Tom frowned in slight concern.

Thomas wince, “He had... triggers I guess. Anything that reminded him of Edd, of his chin or his eye sent him on a rampage, sometimes he'd black out while going berserk and wouldn't remember anything after. Red Leader only put his foot down when he killed a fellow soldier. After that he started calming down, and then, well, he wasn't really angry anymore. Ever.”

As he spoke Tom's sockets widened, a sick feeling building in his gut. _'Killed a fellow soldier'_? What had stopped this bizarre dystopian stereotype of Tord from interceding before it had come to that? Just how lost had Matthew been in his own bitter, betrayed rage?

Thomas rubbed at his neck, making a complicated face, “Well, I say all that, but I honestly didn't pay much attention at the time, I was mostly told after. It's not like I really knew him back then, to me he was just another new recruit that Red Leader took a strange interest in, much like me.” he shrugged once again.

Neurons fired in Tom's brain as he made the connection and gave a slight wince, “Ah, right, your amnesia. Did he-”

“What amnesia?”

Both Toms startled out of the conversation and turned to look at the corner of the room, where Edward still stood, now with an alarmed frown on his face. They'd honestly forgotten he was still in the room with them. As they tried to shake their shock, Edward approached them slowly, expression growing progressively more shaken.

“ _What_ amnesia?” he asked again, his intense stare now centered squarely on Thomas' face, who was caught in a deer-in-headlights expression and he unconsciously shifted backwards slightly. Edward paid the movement no mind as he became frantic, staring searchingly through the visor into Thomas' very soul, or at least that's what it felt like. Another step forward, his hand reached falteringly as if on reflex and his eyes shone with a manic kind of desperation, an absolute need to _understand_.

Thomas leaned further back, shifting uncomfortably as he tried and utterly failed to grasp for his earlier hostility as a last line of defense. He was too worn out emotionally to muster up that kind of self-deceit and aggression.

Finally Edward reached him, strongly grasping his shoulders as if afraid to let go. His expression seemed torn between horrifying realization, angry denial and a raw and wretched sort of vulnerability he hadn't displayed since he'd first laid eyes on Eduardo a week ago.

“ _Thomas._ ” he uttered hoarsely, throat tightening around his airway as he struggled to get the words out, “ _What. Amnesia._ ”

Thomas turned his head to side so he wouldn't have to look into those desperate, broken eyes, “That's none of your business, Gold.” he retorted weakly, desperately trying to put any sort of distance between them.

But Edward wouldn't take it. His hands tightened around Thomas' shoulders and his stance lowered a bit due to his knees growing weak.

“ _Please_.” it was barely a whisper, raw and hoarse and tremulous and vulnerable in a way Thomas hadn't heard from him in almost a decade. It made him want to wince and shrink into himself and disappear from the face of the earth. It made a small part of him awaken and grow insistent again after years of slumber.

His loyalty or his regrets. He was growing torn, frayed at the edges of his standing and his beliefs. He was stretched out too thin over too many bonds he couldn't ever hope to truly sever.

Something somewhere was bound to snap.

He gathered himself up, held himself together with the barest tips of his self. He strained to keep himself in one piece, to endure under the pressure of years of contradicting feelings and so much _pain_.

His soul felt frayed and his heart felt hollowed out and the almost painful grasp around his shoulders reminded him agonizingly of-

“Stop.” he whispered quietly, painfully, and after a moment the hands loosened before releasing him entirely.

He finally managed to look up at Edward, whose arms were now hanging at his sides. His face, so raw and open before, began closing off into now familiar apathy and for some reason he couldn't even begin to fathom the source of he wanted to stop that from happening.

“I...” he began, his mouth feeling suddenly dry and his throat tightening against the words, making him strain to speak. But Edward had halted in his entirety, waiting, so he had to keep pushing, “I... t-three years.”

Edward frowned, face gradually becoming frantic once more, “What?”

Thomas swallowed dryly, “For three years... I remembered nothing. N-not you, not Matt, not us, not... myself...”

Edward's expression slowly twisted into one of horrified sorrow, “Thomas... but why-?”

Thomas shut his sockets beneath his visor and shook his head. He couldn't do this. Not now. Not here. This wasn't a forgiving Tom, he wasn't drunk off his ass, it wasn't the contemplative hours past midnight.

This was Edward Gold, he was terrifyingly sober, and the light of day illuminated every single detail of ugly, terrible, heartbreaking reality.

He stood up suddenly, still shaking his head and absently noting the tears streaming down his face.

He couldn't do this.

Something was bound to snap.

But he couldn't afford to snap.

Thomas turned on his heel and fled into the guest room, locking the door behind him. He collapsed on the mattress, curling up on his side as he fruitlessly tried to stem the tears. Eventually a shaking hand grabbed the visor and removed it. He winced at the white noise of sensation and the sudden, all-encompassing darkness before his body started shaking with sobs. He buried the heels of his hands into his sockets, silencing himself as much as he could. Only a few sobs escaped him.

It was too much.

He was stretching and stretching and there seemed to be no end to this. His edges were fraying and the invisible strings around his neck pulled and pulled and pulled in different directions and he couldn't _breathe_.

This place, these people, they were stripping him of every mask and lie and order he'd built himself on and around and his soul and heart suffered for it.

This place was killing him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was panicking cause id only planned until tom's little slipup and that was barely 600 words but never mind, the angst took over. at least we all now have a better idea of thomas' true feelings about all of this. and edward knows about the amnesia.
> 
> please feed a poor poor writer. comments are filling and inspiring!  
> and come talk to me on tumblr, I'm Lunahras over there too!


	22. Susan

Tom stood in front of the door with his fist raised to knock and hesitated.

It had been a few hours so things had probably calmed down a bit, right? Well, on Edward's side they seemingly had at least. Or maybe he was just brooding. He'd been stone cold silent since his little confrontation with Thomas, it was slightly unnerving. He'd also commandeered the living room once again, which left Tom with only his room to go back to and contemplate on the confrontation he'd utterly failed to halt in anyway.

He felt like he should maybe do some damage control but Thomas had obviously been hit pretty hard by the whole thing and he wasn't sure he was capable of dealing with that. But well, hours later, should be okay. Tightening his fist the slightest bit, he gathered up his hard-won, alcohol-aided resolve and knocked.

Nothing happened.

Tom frowned and knocked again, a bit harder this time. “Thomas? Are you in there?”

Oh for fuck's sake, why was he even bothering with knocking. He tried the handle. It was locked. Ah, that's why.

“Thomas?” he tried again. He was about to knock once more when he heard shuffling from inside the room. After a moment or two the door finally cracked open to reveal a clearly rumpled Thomas, a shaky hand on his visor attempting to adjust it. Had he just put it back on?

“What do you want?” he asked hoarsely in an attempt at hostility that fell entirely flat.

Tom frowned in concern, taking note of the fact that having one hand gripping the door to keep it from opening further left him with only one shaking hand to struggle to adjust his visor, which he seemed to be utterly failing at. “Do you... need help with that?”

Thomas stilled entirely, tensing up at the prospect of anyone's hands coming anywhere close to his sockets. Tom realized this a moment later and quickly backtracked. “Ah, you don't hav-”

“...okay.” came a small, barely audible whisper.

Tom blinked, befuddled by this turn of events. “...wait, are you sure?”

Thomas didn't respond, mouth set into an apprehensive grimace, but he lowered his hand from his face in a clear affirmative. Tom gulped, suddenly feeling weighed down with the rare and entirely unexpected trust being placed upon him.

He slowly raised his hands, taking care to telegraph his movements even if he wasn't sure Thomas could even see them right now, and gingerly touched the edges of the visor. Thomas tensed a bit more but didn't move otherwise so Tom took that as permission to continue. Carefully, as if holding the most delicate glass in he world, he shifted it around until it was fitted properly on the older man's face.

Electric green eyes finally appeared on the display, looking simultaneously tense and reluctantly thoughtful. Tom took one look at the absolutely wrecked man before him in his entirety and got an idea he was at least halfway sure was absolutely terrible.

“Wait here a moment.” he said as he went to execute it anyway.

Half a minute later he came back from his room with Susan in hand, much to Thomas' obvious astonishment. Something seemed to relax within the soldier and he let the door fall fully open, not looking at Tom's face.

Tom's lips formed a small, amused smirk as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. He sat on the mattress beside a silent, curled up Thomas who was apparently refusing to look at him directly and settled Susan on his lap. He thoughtfully ran his fingers down the strings before he settled on the tune he wanted to play, peaceful and slightly melancholic.

As he played, he noticed Thomas release some of the wound up tension he'd been holding onto and relax slightly into the wall at his back. Well, useless drunk or not, at least he was good for something. Music filled the air in the room, dissipating any lingering tensions in its path. A few minutes later his fingers settled on the guitar, unmoving even as the strings still vibrated underneath them. The last few notes lingered before settling down into silence.

“...I missed that sound.” Thomas said into the fresh void of sound, chin resting on the arms curled around his knees and head tilted to side just enough that he could look at Susan from the corner of his sight.

Tom hummed, “Army keeping you too busy too play?” he'd meant it jokingly but it came out biting and slightly accusatory instead and he winced at the same time as Thomas flinched.

Thomas hesitated, “Well, that and... Susan... didn't really make it past the first year of the war. They raided our new base, back when we'd just started the 'rebel' army and...” he trailed off, wincing. Tom was silent, knuckles going white from tension even was he kept his grip on Susan gentle, and Thomas felt like he needed to keep talking. “I, um, finding any working instruments at the time in England was kind of impossible, especially electric ones. So I didn't get to play at all after that.”

Tom forced his lips open to ask, “And in your Red Army?”

Thomas hunched a bit more over himself, “...I didn't really _know_ I had hobbies at first. And when I remembered...” he shook his head, “...it would've tipped him off if I'd just suddenly started playing again.”

Tom didn't really need to ask who _he_ was and he was kind of glad Thomas hadn't mentioned his title ( _or his name_ ) because just the thought of the twisted future version of his former housemate made something cold and ugly and _nauseating_ curl up in his chest. It almost felt like a cold, inhuman hand wrapped around his heart and lungs, ready to rip them out of his chest at the first opportunity.

He started playing again, a bit absentminded and consciously trying to relax his wound up shoulders. Out the corner of his socket he saw Thomas staring at Susan in something akin to longing, but not quite hopeful enough to define it as such. He looked back down at the bass, fingers faltering before stopping completely.

He couldn't believe he was actually considering this.

Tom released a defeated groan as he hunched almost protectively over Susan a bit. Thomas had trusted him with his visor, his vision, probably his greatest trauma.

His grip tightened and he had to consciously loosen it.

Well alright then.

Without really looking he lifted the bass guitar from his lap and in Thomas' general direction, taking great care not to bump her against anything. Thomas blinked confusedly before his LED eyes widened in growing bafflement.

“You- I- I can't-”

Tom sighed, running his free hand down his face. “Just take her before I change my mind. This is a one-time thing, it's never happening again.” he warned, voice clearly strained.

Thomas' mouth clicked shut and after a moment of hesitation he slowly reached out to grab the bass. Tom barely managed to release her and he watched as Thomas grasped her gingerly but firmly. He held Susan as if he was holding an ancient, priceless artifact, with care and veneration, and something in Tom's chest eased at the sight. Maybe this wasn't such an absolutely terrible idea after all.

Thomas settled Susan on his now crossed legs but his hands hesitated inches above the strings. A troubled frown crossed his face.

“I don't... It's been so long...”

Tom mulled this over for a bit. “...you don't have to play anything in particular. Just... try to get back into it.”

Thomas pursed his lips doubtfully but his fingers slowly moved towards the strings. He tried out a chord, which came out sounding screechy and exceedingly off-tune. He winced as Tom snickered, shooting the younger man a disgruntled look before looking back down to whatever his hands were doing that was so terrible. Adjusting his fingers, he tried again and got a decent sound this time. He tried another chord, and another, and after a while he was playing a slow, simple tune, a small smile gradually spreading on his lips.

Tom watched on and while a part of him was riddled with all kinds of anxiety, another felt secure in the knowledge that he'd made the right call.

Didn't mean he wouldn't demand his bass back right after this, though.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "i should totally write a chapter centered around an instrument i know absolutely nothing about! that makes sense!" hahafuckme  
> and here we see another good example of how terrible i am at estimating. this whole interaction was supposed to take maybe 500 words before i got to the actual meat of the chapter. then it turned into a chapter of its own. oh well, the pacing works better like this anyway. next chapter is gonna be... hehe
> 
> please tell me what you think! i feel like ive mellowed out thomas a bit too much...  
> and come talk to me on tumblr! http://lunahras.tumblr.com/


	23. Going Going Gone

“ _...Tom?”_

_No, that's impossible. Tom is MIA, probably long dead in a ditch somewhere. There is absolutely no way._

_Except._

_Except, standing in front of him is indeed Thomas Ridge._

_Edd can feel his throat closing up a tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Tom? Is that really you? I... We thought you were dead! Where have you been? And what happened to your-?”_

“ _Edward Gold.” his voice is cold and dispassionate, almost robotic._

_Edd trips over his words, a niggling alarm going off at the back of his head, “Wh-wha- Tom, why are you-?”_

“ _I have been tasked to apprehend you, neutralize if necessary. Red Leader wants a word with you.” he continues in the same cold voice, raising the gun Edd didn't notice before and pointing it directly at his chest._

_The nervous, tremulous smile on Edd's face slides right off and if it weren't so unnervingly still around them, even with the suddenly distant, incessant noise of troops in disarray, he'd think he's already been shot._

“ _What are you saying?” he whispers, and of course Tom doesn't hear him, it's not really as still as Edd currently perceives it to be. He struggles to speak louder, struggles to breathe. “T-Tom, come on, let's go home, yeah?”_

_Tom remains silent, the grip on his gun tightening the slightest bit._

_Something in Edd snaps._

“ _What is this, Tom?!” he screams, uncaring of the tears on his face or the chaos around them, “You come back from the dead and suddenly you're with Red? How does that make sense?! WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU?”_

__

“ _If you refuse to come peacefully I've been ordered to use force.” that monotone voice grates on his ears and he can't take the steely look on those alien, virtual eyes anymore. Edd can feel his eyes heat up, energy building along with his anger._

_A shot rings out and a stinging pain makes itself known on Edd's cheek. His hand slowly comes up to touch it and comes away stained red. All of sudden his anger rushes out of him and he's left feeling hollow and lost._

“ _I will not repeat myself, Gold.”_

_Edd stares down the barrel of a gun, held by one of his closest friends, and grief hits him like a freight train._

“ _Tom... please don't do this...” Tom says nothing, enveloping himself in stone cold silence, and Edd takes a step forward, pleading with his eyes, “Please...”_

_For just a moment there's an air of hesitation around Tom, but before Edd can even begin to react there's a hand on his arm hurriedly dragging him away._

_Edd can feel panic rise in his chest and struggles to stop their momentum, to turn back to Tom, “N-no, wait! I need to- let me go! I need to stop hi-” He suddenly finds himself on the ground, the cheek that isn't bleeding now throbbing with sharp spikes of pain._

“ _Are you a fucking idiot?!” A hand grabs the lapel of his coat and he's suddenly face to face with a very angry and terribly afraid Eduardo. “Do you want to get yourself killed? Is that it?!”_

_Edd stares up at him in stunned silence and Eduardo grits his teeth. “Get up! We need to retreat! I didn't follow you all these years just so you could die here like an absolute moron!”_

_Edd flinches but reaches out to grab the hand offered to him._

_Agonizing pain suddenly blooms in his shoulder and he screams. With a hand on the wound to stem the bleeding, he looks back at Tom, gun still aimed straight at him. Tom seems frozen for a moment before he starts moving towards them._

“ _Shit!” Eduardo curses, forcefully hoisting Edd onto his feet by his uninjured arm and running with his idiotic leader's arm still in his grasp._

_The world passes Edd by in a haze of agony, both physical and emotional, and he loses sight of any blue in the chaos of his retreating forces._

_He loses sight of him..._

Edward snapped back to reality through the spiking pain of his jaw, clenched so forcefully as he lost himself in bad memories that he could feel his teeth creaking. He very slowly released the tension in his jaw until the pain lowered to a dull throb.

He dragged a hand down his face, releasing an explosive sigh. He really shouldn't be going on trips down memory lane, the place was a fucking shithole. What he needed was a distraction (answers would've been nice too but he'd long ago accepted that you couldn't always get what you wanted).

The sound of steps caught his attention and he raised his torso so he could see over the back of the couch. A few seconds later Edd entered the living room and paused when he saw Edward, smiling sheepishly.

“Ah, sorry, did I wake you?”

Edward blinked and realized there was pale light filtering through the windows. It was already morning.

“Uh, no, couldn't sleep.” Edward responded after a moment.

Edd shot him a mildly concerned look, “Are you alright?”

Edward sighed, “Yeah, just... thinking... What are _you_ doing up this early anyway?” he quirked an inquiring eyebrow and Edd cringed, raising a hand to rub at his eye. Apparently he wasn't fully awake yet.

“Ringo was sitting on my chest and I woke up because I couldn't breathe.”

Edward looked down at the mention of Ringo but shook himself out his depressive spiral before it could even start properly, helped by Edd suddenly piping up, “I thought I might as well do the groceries since we're running out of food. Want to come?”

Edward considered for a moment. “Yeah, sure. I could use some fresh air anyway.” he said and got up as Edd nodded. “Let me just get my coat.”

Edd looked him over and smiled in amusement, “You're going out in a T-shirt, sweatpants and a _leather trench coat_?”

Edward shrugged, “What can I say, I have an amazing sense of fashion.” he said as he put on the coat.

Edd snorted, keys in hand, and went out the door, “ _Amazing_ alright.” he muttered.

Edward hurriedly finished putting on his shoes and went after him, closing the front door as he did. They walked to the store in comfortable silence.

“Soooooo,” Edward started as he glanced sideways at the younger man, content smile becoming cat-like, “You and the Matts, huh?”

Edd sputtered in shock at the sudden inquiry and almost tripped over his own two feet, ears red. He glared up accusingly at a gleefully smirking Edward, “There's nothing going on there and you _know_ it.”

Edward hummed in mocking thoughtfulness, “True.” he admitted, “There's nothing there. _Yet_.”

Edd rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in exasperation. “Whatever. I don't have to listen to this.”

Edward chuckled, “Take it from your future self, Edd. You're a sucker for big blue eyes and freckles.”

Edd hid his probably burning face in his hands and released an over-dramatic groan as they finally reached the store. “Shut _uuuuuuup_!” They went in and walked directly to the drinks aisle, they had priorities after all. Edd squinted up at Edward awkwardly, “And anyway, if that's our- your type, why Eduardo of all people?”

The older man barked out a startled laugh and almost dropped the large bottle of cola he was holding, “Hah, going directly for the heart of the issue, I see.” he said with a small smirk and snickered a bit more as Edd sputtered, “Well, the thing with Eduardo is a bit different. For one, we didn't...we didn't really have an actual relationship. It was an on and off thing...” he trailed off with a wistful look on his face.

Edd cringed as he grabbed a pack of spaghetti but his curiosity won over, “Yeah, okay, but _why him_?”

Edward hummed in thought, “You know, all that arrogance and hostility and bravado, it's mostly just a front. But it's pretty hard to see past all of that. After Jo- after he joined up with us... we were all a bit broken, in one way or another, and we were forced to spend a lot of time together. You get to know a lot about a person when you live in close quarters with them for a while. Eduardo...” he thought for a moment, “... he's a good listener, if you let him. He comforted anyone who needed it, he was practically the base's therapist, as weird as that sounds.” he chuckled in remembrance. “If he wants to help you, he'll do it even at a cost to himself. He doesn't take shit from anyone. He's a brilliant strategist but his first priority was always getting everyone back safely. He can be very gentle, he just doesn't like to 'show weakness' or some bullshit. And he can't deal well with loss, even less with rejection. I think I hurt him a lot when I went for Matthew, but I didn't get to talk to him about it before he...” he trailed off mournfully.

Edd looked both fascinated and positively uncomfortable at this point as he fiddled with a pack of tomatoes so Edward sighed and decided to leave it at that.

“...so you're saying you just have dig really, really, really, really, _really_ deep?”

Edward chuckled, “Pretty much.”

They'd gathered everything they needed so Edd stood in line to pay while Edward trailed behind him, “Sounds like too much effort for a total prat.” he remarked lightly.

“True.” Edward shrugged, but didn't elaborate. Instead shot Edd a wry smile and ruffled his hair just to annoy him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Edd yelped and punched his arm, then turned around to the bemused cashier to pay for their groceries. Edward just laughed, the bastard.

The walk back home was spent mostly in contemplative but not uncomfortable silence, both of them lost in thought. When they reached the house, Edd absently pulled out his keys and opened the front door to the sounds of someone panicking. They both frowned and entered the house.

Matt was in standing in the middle of the living room, too panicked to string together a coherent sentence, and Tom was trying to calm him down.

“Guys, what's going on?” Edd asked.

Tom looked up and seemed relieved at their arrival. “I don't know! He started running around the house and yelling something!”

Edd's frown deepened and he dropped the groceries on the floor in favor of walking up to Matt and grabbing him by a shoulder, his other hand going to his chin and forcing Matt to look at him.

“Matt, calm down. What's going on?”

The redhead seemed on the verge of an absolute freakout, eyes wide and alarmed, “I don't- Edd, oh my god! It's Thomas and Matthew, I don't-!”

“Breathe, Matt.”

“I- I- Thomas just barged into my room, he looked really freaked out and he had his gun out and he was yelling something about a prison and then Matthew was freaking and pulled a gun out of nowhere and then they _left_ , Edd! They left, they're gone, I have no idea where they went!”

Edd's grip slackened.

Oh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS TIME
> 
> (psst! tell me what you think in the comments! and talk to me on tumblr https://lunahras.tumblr.com/ )


	24. Prison Break

It was a high-pitched, insistent beeping that woke him up.

Thomas awoke slowly, even with that hellish sound in his ear. His lids remained closed as he blindly reached out a hand for his visor, immediately finding it and swiftly putting it on with practiced ease. Then and only then did he finally open his sockets to check just what the hell was so important that he had to be woken at – he checked the upper left corner of the display – 5 in the morning.

The first thing that jumped out at him was the urgent alert notification in the middle of his vision. He perked up and raised a hand to select it, simultaneously stopping the incessant beeping and opening up a new, green-tinted window. Now, what was it that he apparently needed to see so badly...

[Encountered priority keyword "Tord Larkson" in the following files...]

...well, shit.

Any sleepiness that might have lingered in his system was now officially gone and he could feel his heart pounding a mile a minute. His world narrowed down to the window before him as he skimmed through the data. Oslo Police Department... budding militia... possible terrorist threat...

Tord had shown up on recent police reports for allegedly organising a small paramilitary group that had been busted at the outskirts of Oslo... _well then_.

This had been a few days ago and at the moment there didn't seem to be a capture report, just an arrest warrant. A quick scan of any CCTV around the city didn't immediately show results after the time of the bust so Tord must have been lying low, probably fled the country.

Distantly Thomas could feel the slight tremble in his hands. This was the only lead he had found, he couldn't lose him now.

If he was out of Norway, Russia was a good bet, if a terrifying prospect. Or...

His mind went unbidden to snapshots of a stoic face and an unending supply of cigarettes. He licked his suddenly dry lips.

...or Poland, a somewhat less terrifying prospect.

A nation-wide scan would take days, especially with a half-baked facial recognition software. But Tord would probably stick to large cities. Still a lot of data, but not nearly as time-consuming. Inputting the command, he tried a keyword search in Warsaw which came up with nothing after two hours. All that nerve-wracking waiting for nothing, ugh. He sighed in aggravation and was about to try again in Bydgoszcz when the CCTV scans pinged at him.

…why the fuck was Tord in Szczecin of all places?

But never mind that, Thomas could feel his heart racing as he took a look at the sped-up footage. Walked around, got into an argument, pulled out a... gun... – Thomas barely managed to deny the urge to facepalm, but it was a close thing. He was in love with a cruel and terrible man who, in his youth, had apparently been an absolute moron. What had his life become. – ...the police got involved, a scuffle ensued, more guns... oh dear.

A quick break through some firewalls (what even was cyber-security in 2010, seriously) and a search through recent Szczecin PD reports got him a final answer on his location, as well as some worrying information.

The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, even as his brow furrowed in worry.

“Found you, you absolute menace.” he whispered.

Then Thomas sprang into action. His clothes and shoes were on him in record time and his gun was in his hand. He absently noted that the sun had come up while he'd been tracking his kinda-boss down but he didn't pay it any mind. He practically flew out the door and down the hall, bursting into Matt's room, much the disconcert and fright of either redhead.

Matt mumbled blearily but Matthew took in his appearance and immediately became alert.

“Thomas, what-”

“No time! I found him! In Poland! In a prison in Poland! Can you believe he got himself in prison? Prison, of course he got himself in prison in fucking Poland! Come _on_ , Matthew, we need to go!” he urged, perhaps a bit more manic and panicked than he'd originally intended. Just a bit.

Realization seemed to dawn on Matthew and he sprang up from the bed, hurrying into his normal apparel in an almost comical fumble of limbs. He then considered the mountains of junk around him for just a moment before he stuck his hand into one to his right – and pulled out his gun.

“Okay, I'm done! I'm done! Let's go, where is he? Wait, what do you _mean_ , prison?! How'd he manage _that_?”

“ _By being a reckless idiot, is how._ ” Thomas muttered absently under his breath as he practically dragged Matthew out of the room and the house in a distracted hurry, leaving an absolutely befuddled Matt behind.

As they ran, his unoccupied hand sorted out their travel plans. Call a taxi, pay for their last-minute tickets with someone else’s bank account, discreetly bribe some of the staff with money sourced from several different accounts to ignore the very suspicious men, bypass some more firewalls so he could download a floor map of the prison (Plan A was subtlety, after all, Plan B... he'd cross that bridge when he got there). He almost tripped several times, to the point that Matthew had to keep a constant hold on this arm. Thomas didn't pay it any mind. Under his visor, his sockets briefly flashed deep magenta.

He'd finally found Tord and nothing could stop him until they got him back.

0 0 0

It had been a terrible week for one Tord Larkson.

It hadn't started bad, not really. He'd found a nice, abandoned warehouse in the outskirts of the city, recruitment for his little communist movement had started picking up, his weapons cache was growing to a respectable size, overall not too shabby.

And then he'd had a leak. A nasty little _rat_ had led the police straight to them and his entire operation was dismantled in a matter of hours. Months of work, all for nothing except a big, fat, black mark in his record and an arrest warrant. _Wonderful_.

So of course he'd fled the country. He'd picked Poland because... well, he hadn't actually had a reason other than it had seemed like a decent country as any bunker down and lay low for a while. He'd gotten avoiding CCTV down to an art in the past year, so he hadn't worried much about that.

Of course, then Tord had managed to provoke a fight with a local, who had pulled a knife on him and given him a pretty nasty gash to the side of his belly. Of course he'd used his gun (one of many on him at the time) to defend himself, but that had attracted the entirely unwanted attention of the local police force, and the whole thing had escalated into a shootout which he'd ultimately lost.

And thus he now found himself in a cell in the lovely prison of Szczecin, with only a roll of gauze they'd thrown at him as an afterthought and three merrily bleeding wounds, two of which he had received during the damn shootout. Such fine hospitality the Polish had, he felt right at home.

Tord swallowed a pained groan as he sat up on the floor of the cell. He needed to at least get his injuries wrapped, but his shoulder, now sporting a nice little hole, probably wouldn't make that easy.

“Hey, czy jesteś w porządku?”

Tord whipped his torso around along with his head to look at the source of the voice, the “Hva?” slipped out before he immediately regretted the last two seconds, doubling over from the flaring pain at his side.

His cellmate, because apparently he had one of those now, seemed to comprehend their problematic and switched tracks as he stood up from his cot and approached him cautiously, a bent cigarette between his lips.

“Are you alright? You seem hurt.” he asked, removing the cigarette from his mouth and kneeling beside a hunched over Tord, who was gritting his teeth and waiting for the pain to pass.

“Just a few scratches, hah.” Tord tried to laugh it off, but his voice sounded strained and the huff resembled more a pained exhale than a chuckle. He grimaced. Well, so much for a tough first impression.

The other man's admittedly impressively thick eyebrows furrowed in something resembling concern. Maybe a distant, estranged cousin, Tord thought in an inner attempt at humour that he hoped would distract him from the pain. It didn't.

The man seemed to completely rebuff his deflection, “Do you need help with those _scratches_?” he drawled, and if his face hadn't been white as a sheet from the pain and blood loss, Tord might've flushed in embarrassment. As it was he simply avoided his gaze and nodded, holding up the roll of gauze that had been discarded into the cell along with him. The man grabbed it and gestured for him to show him the wounds.

“My name's Paul.” he said as Tord took off his jacket.

“...Tord.”

Paul nodded and placed the lit cigarette back between his lips, frowning once Tord's shirt was removed, carefully so as not to jostle his shoulder too much. Somehow he managed to keep talking clearly even with that thing in his mouth, Tord was reluctantly impressed.

“Is there an exit wound?” he asked, gesturing to his injured shoulder.

Tord nodded, blinking away the spots in his vision, “Lower caliber. I think there's still a bullet in my leg, though.”

Paul's frown deepened, “The bleeding's not too bad and your trousers aren't completely soaked so they at least missed any major blood vessels. That,” he pointed at the gash in his side while he stood up, “needs to be stitched, though.”

Tord snorted, “You got a needle?” Paul shook his head as he stepped towards the sink in the cell to give his hands a quick wash, “Didn't think so. What are you...” he trailed off as Paul knelt and pulled something out from under his cot. That something turned out to be... a bottle of vodka? Paul also grabbed the toilet paper from beside the toilet before turning back to him. He set the roll down on the pile of Tord's discarded clothing along with the gauze and the bottle on the floor beside him as he sat back down in front of the Norwegian.

“I'm gonna do your torso first.” he announced and promptly poured a glassful of vodka unto his shoulder and his side after opening the bottle, earning a startled and agonized hiss from Tord.

“Warn a guy, will you!” he growled, trying to stifle yet another pained groan.

“You want this over with quickly, right?” Paul pointed out, raising a thick, unimpressed eyebrow as he started wiping the blood from the edges of his slash wound. Tord gritted his teeth but didn't deny it. A rushed job was better than nothing. And probably better for his nerves.

In a manner of minutes he had wads of toilet paper pressed against his wounds by choppily cut but decently wrapped bandages. Tord carefully put his bloodied shirt back on, stalling. He really wasn't looking forward to removing that bullet.

“...why are you helping me?” he asked instead, honestly curious.

Paul shrugged, “I'd rather not have a corpse for a cellmate. And I like to think I'm a decent person. Probably. Maybe. Now go lie down properly and take those off.” he gestured offhandedly to his pants and Tord reluctantly followed the order, moving slowly towards the unclaimed cot and taking great care to move his wounded leg as little as possible as he removed the offending garment. Paul washed his hands again before dropping some vodka on his right.

Lying on his back with his legs outstretched, Tord was pointedly staring at the ceiling. “...so how'd you get that bottle anyway, Paul?”

He heard a small chuckle before agonizing pain shot through his leg, stemming from the whole in his thigh. His body tensed up all at once and he brought his uninjured arm to his face so he could bite into it instead of screaming. A muffled, grunting cry escaped him anyway, but it wasn't too loud so he'd count that as a win. He was somewhat glad for the strong hand holding down his leg so it wouldn't thrash around, that would only make things worse.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain let up a fair bit. He opened his eyes (when had he shut them?) to see a bloody hand holding an equally bloody bullet in front his his face. His focus shifted further into the background, to the man smiling wryly, cigarette still between his lips and almost nonexistent by now.

“I won a bet with a guard.” came Paul's delayed reply, “That's how I got these too.” he wiggled the burning stump with his lips amusedly.

Tord glared but didn't really have the energy for anything else. His lids felt heavy. This whole day had been entirely too draining but that bullet was the last straw. Even as he tried to fight it off, unconsciousness claimed him, enveloping his mind in darkness.

When he woke up, his leg had been cleaned and dressed and his pants were lying on top of his legs. He looked blearily to the side, where Paul was sitting on his own cot reading a worn-looking book.

“You missed supper,” Paul remarked without looking up. “And breakfast.”

That made sense. Tord's stomach felt like it was eating itself. And he was absolutely parched. He shifted a bit, making to sit up, but hissed in pain when he accidentally jarred his side.

Fuck. Okay. He could do this. He took a deep breath and carefully lifted his torso, supporting his weight on his uninjured arm. Paul was now watching him curiously but he forced himself to ignore it. Putting most of his weight on the side of his hips that didn't have a gateway almost straight to his guts, he managed to sit up properly. There were large spots in his vision but that was alright.

Deep breath, in, out. Healthy leg bent, put all the weight on it, a bit of a push from his supporting arm and-

Up. He was standing. He was in a lot of pain, but he was standing. Alright, now he just needed to walk, well limp, to the sink.

Ahhhh, finally sweet, sweet water.

“You really shouldn't be moving around. Those aren't closed and you lost a lot of blood.” the words would have sounded worried if it weren't for the incredibly flat tone in which they were delivered.

Tord snorted, “If I never did what I shouldn't I wouldn't be here in the first place.”

“One would think that'd be a deterrent, not a justification.”

“Well, one would think wrong.”

It was Paul's turn to snort, in parts amused and disbelieving. “You're something else.”

Tord smirked to mask a wince, “I'll take that as a compliment.” He limped back to his cot and sat down, back against the wall. The pain in his wounds spiked periodically, his head throbbed and his empty stomach gifted him with a nasty bout of nausea.

This was going to be a long day.

His meals were brought to him by a guard apparently, a particularly disgruntled one at that, while Paul usually left the cell for mealtimes. Oddly enough, though, he didn't seem to spend any other time outside the cell, and he was always escorted by a guard. Tord thought it best not to ask. He asked other things instead.

“So what are you in for?”

Paul took a drag of his cigarette as he stared at the drab wall, “You know, you're not really supposed to ask that in prison. Lot of people find it rude.”

“Do you?”

Paul shrugged, “Not really. I was in the army, and then I deserted. Unsuccessfully. You?”

Tord thought for a moment, “I think the official charges are something like attempted terrorism and illegal possession of arms.”

“Had a gun on you?”

“Try a dozen.”

Paul quirked a mildly impressed eyebrow, “How do you fit all that into one outfit without it looking bulky?”

“Practice.” Tord smirked, borderline preening.

They coexisted amicably during their term as cellmates, even as Tord grew progressively woozier and Paul more concerned.

It was in the morning of his third day there, right as Paul was finishing up cleaning and redressing his wounds, that they noticed the distant noises of chaos. Tord frowned and listened, trying to figure out what was going on. Paul simply finished the task at hand a bit frantically, for once lacking a cancer stick to draw artificial calm from. He'd run out last night.

The noises seemed to grow louder. There was an alarm, screams and... collapsing walls? _A roar_?

What the hell was going on?

He didn't have to wait terribly long before the wall opposite them was sporting a sizable hole. Through the dust cloud emerged two impossibly familiar figures. Tord's breath caught in his throat.

Except.

Except three years was a long time, but it wasn't _that_ long. These two, whoever they were, couldn't possibly be Tom and Matt, no matter how mindblowingly like them they looked. Plus, what was the weird cyborg look they were trying to pull off?

Not-Tom's electric green gaze fastened on him for a moment before sliding towards Paul, as if scanning him.

“Shit.” Tord heard him mutter.

Not-Matt perked up, “Oh! We're taking two, Thomas!”

Apparently-Thomas ( _what the fuck_ ) practically radiated frustration as he dragged a hand down his face, “Yes Matthew, I can see that.” He then looked back at them expectantly, cocking his head and half-turning back to the hole in the wall. “Well, then, come on.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS i know a lot of this (especially the hacking bits) is extremely unrealistic and ive severely overexaggerated the capabilities of thomas' mini computer visor (15 years is a long time but not THAT long). thats ok, this wasnt meant to be terribly realistic, this is eddsworld after all. on that note, this is officially the chapter with the longest bout of research put into it, it was terrible. im not entirely sure if szczecin actually has a prison, it did in the fifties and thats apparently where a lot of soviet deserters ended up, but im not sure if its still operational. for the sake of this story we'll pretend it is. we'll also pretend there's cctv all over european cities to make both mine and thomas' life easier. and that polish police and prison staff is in fact that neglectful (which i dont believe for a minute). also i know shit about treating wounds so sorry if ive offended your sensibilities in any way. and dont ask how the general timeline works out, nobody knows. (you know, i was planning on making the breakout stealthy but instead it just devolved into absolute chaos, thomas you need to chill). lastly, i dont speak either norwegian nor polish so if you do and have something to correct in those two sentences please feel free to tell me.
> 
> sooooooo this turned out pretty long. it was supposed to include more but its almost 3k long and im tired, you can wait a bit longer for the rest. at least this one has tord's pov for the first time in this fic.
> 
> pleeeease comment!! i put way too much effort into this, i deserve a reward.


	25. Welcome Back Parties Suck

“Edd, calm down.”

Edd ceased his pacing to whirl around and shove a finger into Edward's chest. “Do _not_ tell me to calm down, it's been two days!”

Edward seemed entirely unimpressed as he took Edd's wrist and lowered it, “And you working yourself up into up into a panic isn't going to help them come back sooner.”

Edd shook off his grip and glared at him frantically, “Then _what_ will?!”

It wasn't Edward who answered but Tom, sitting on the couch with Matt and watching the confrontation unfold, “We just have to hope they get back soon.”

Something snapped in Edd.

“I'm _tired_ of hoping that things will work themselves out! It obviously didn't work for _them_!” he bitingly gestured towards Edward but didn't see him flinch at the accusation, “Why would it work for us!”

“ _Because_ ,” Tom replied in a clipped tone, brow furrowing when he noticed Edward's reaction behind Edd, “It usually does work out. And those two are experienced _soldiers,_ Edd. They'll be okay.”

All fight seemed to leave him as he slumped, knees going weak. He would have fallen on his ass if it weren't for the strong, steady hands of his older self keeping him upright. Edd let himself be led to the armchair and collapsed into the plush seat, dragging a hand down his face in stressed exhaustion. Ringo took the chance to appear out of nowhere and climb onto his lap.

“I'm just worried...” he whispered as he pet his cat's soft fur agitatedly.

“So are we,” Matt reminded him with a concerned frown, “But we can't track them. We just have to trust that... that they'll come back...” he looked down at his lap, unwittingly echoing Tom and biting his lip.

Edward looked at the two thoroughly downtrodden men and his gaze met Tom's, exchanging a concerned look with him. He had his suspicions as to why the two had left in such a panicked hurry but he hoped and prayed to any god that would listen that he was wrong. He didn't really know what he'd do in that case...

Tom sighed. Once again he found himself the only level-headed person in the room and it was as disorienting an experience as last time. He was obviously also worried, but even more than that he had the burning urge to demand answers the moment Thomas and Matthew stepped foot inside the house again.

The universe seemed to act in his favour for once as a loud knocking came from the door, followed by their ringing doorbell as if as an afterthought. Everyone in the room startled out of their contemplation to stare at it in shock. Another knock had both Matt and Edd scrambling towards the door, throwing off a very disgruntled Ringo who for the first time decided to seek affection from Edward instead. He knelt and pet her almost reverently with shaking hands as he heard the door open behind him.

There was a moment of stunned silence as Edd and Matt stared at Matthew standing in their doorway. Then Matt threw himself at the older man, Edd looking torn between doing the same and punching him. “ _Two days_. You were gone for two days. No warning, not a single word.” he managed to say.

Matthew laughed nervously as he tried to keep himself upright with an armful of Matt. A throat pointedly clearing behind him snapped him out of it. “...can we come in, though? We have a bit of an urgent... issue.”

Edd frowned but stepped aside, dragging Matt with him by the collar and ignoring his protests. Matthew gratefully stepped inside, followed by Thomas who had someone's arm slung around his shoulder-

Edd blinked in disbelief as he mentally corrected himself. Who had _Tord's_ arm slung around his shoulder, offering support. The last to enter the house was an unknown man with- wow, those were his eyebrows? He shook his head. No, focus. Tord.

Tom and Matt seemed equally frozen at the sight of Tord. Edward had retreated to a corner of the room with Ringo and seemed hellbent on focusing entirely on her. Edd frowned in consternation but his attention quickly shifted to the sofa, which Thomas had released Tord onto. Tom and Matt were both standing a bit off to the side, apparently not knowing what to say. The stranger had claimed a different corner in the room and was watching them all with an air of detached nervousness.

Edd approached the sofa to take a closer look at the state of his old friend. Tord looked dazed and more than a little woozy as he gazed around the room, taking in the many faces that suddenly surrounded him in somewhat alarmed confusion.

“...wait, am I back home? What's going on?” he looked like he wanted to keep talking but had to rest his head on his hand, apparently lightheaded. He looked sideways at Thomas, grunting with more than a little irritation lacing his voice, “Can you tell me _now_?”

“As soon as we get those wounds disinfected and stitched up properly, yes.” Thomas answered clinically.

Tord frowned, forehead still resting on his hand, “Hell no. I don't even know who you are and I don't care that you look creepily like...” he gestured wildly with his other hand in Tom's general direction, “like _him_. In fact, that makes it... makes it worse.” he stuttered a bit, his frown turning frustrated. “I need an _explanation_.”

Thomas released a aggravated sigh and Edd stepped in before the whole thing could escalate. “That _is_ Tom. They're us from the future, Tord. Their time machine broke and they're stuck here for now.”

Tord's eyes snapped to him, an action he seemed to immediately regret as he closed them for a moment. Opening them back up slowly, he stared at Edd.

“Oh.”

Edd raised a sardonic eyebrow, “Not even a 'hello'? Or are you just better at goodbyes than hellos?” he challenged. Tord winced but didn't respond, letting his gaze drop. After a few seconds he began removing his jacket, the bloodied shirt underneath following soon after to bare his bandaged torso. Edd and Matt watched with growing concern while Thomas' scowl deepened. Matthew then re-entered the room, having left for a moment.

“Found the first aid kit. We should probably do this in the bathroom.” he called out.

“Right.” Thomas said and before anyone could say anything, he slipped his arms under the injured man before him and stood up, carrying him to the bathroom. Tord was frozen in shock for a second before he started loudly protesting.

“Hey! Let me down, I can walk!” he squawked indignantly.

“Not with that leg, you can't.” was Thomas' curt reply.

While they exited the room Edd and Matt exchanged a worried look and even Tom looked slightly concerned. This wasn't going at all how he had pictured his first meeting with Tord in three years. There were so many burning questions on his tongue, just waiting to be released, for both him and the two time-travelers who had disappeared on them. But they could wait until after they were sure Tord wasn't going to bleed out in their house.

He decided to distract himself from the whole ordeal by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Uh, who are you again?” he asked the stranger, who scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

“My name's Paul. I was Tord's cellmate and they decided to take me along for some reason.” he shrugged, “Can't really say no when someone offers to break you out of prison.”

Edd blinked but nodded even as Matt mouthed “Break out of prison.” with a rather baffled expression. “I'm Edd. Uh... nice to meet you, I guess?”

Paul nodded, “Likewise.”

It was silent after that, only broken by the occasional muffled cry or pained grunt from the bathroom and Ringo's pleasured purring from the corner.

He should have felt relieved. Thomas and Matthew were back, and they had even brought Tord back with them. But a sense of unease persistently curled in his chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will be skipping thomas' expert treatment because i didnt really want to bullshit my way through that. tord is still suffering from bloodloss and covering his wounds with used bandaging so, well, hes not entirely there mentally right now. the drama will have to wait a bit longer.
> 
> comments are always incredibly appreciated! and come talk to me on tumblr (same username)!


	26. Fluorescent Fury

Tord woke up to the sounds of an argument.

“-could've at least said something before you just took off!”

“We were in a hurry! I-”

“I'm sure you could've spared two minutes!”

Naturally this only made the painful throbbing in his skull even worse than it already was. He opened his eyes blearily, frowning in confusion. This wasn't his base. It wasn't the cell either. The argument got louder and he winced.

“Urgh, _please_ shut up...” his voice came out breathy and raspy but apparently he'd been loud enough for them to heed his request.

Ah, blessed silence.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Was that... _Edd_?

“How do you feel?” said a strangely familiar voice. He directed his eyes to it and they met with a green, virtual display. The last twenty-four hours came crashing back to him at the sight of the older Tom-lookalike. Wait, no, this was Tom's future self.

Holy shit, what the hell kind of trouble had his old friends managed to pull off this time?

“Like shit.” he answered belatedly and heard a snort from behind Thomas, where Tom stood.

“You look like it too.” he bit out, and Paul beside him seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

“Fuck you.” was Tord's eloquent reply. He then looked back at Thomas and took a deep breath, “So, now that my wounds are treated and I've woken up from apparently passing out, _what the hell is going on_?”

He saw Matthew giving him a strange look that he couldn't quite decipher and stored that away for later examination. Thomas sighed, “Well, for one, we broke you out of prison after you pulled some stupi- some very ill-advised decisions.” Thomas backtracked with a small wince. What was that about?

Tord clicked his tongue in annoyance, “I know _that_. Just... _why_? And why exactly are there even... what, future versions of Matt and Tom? Am I missing something? Is there a future me here too?”

Matthew had opened his mouth to interject into his tirade, but he flinched almost violently at the last question. Thomas also seemed to suddenly tense. “...no. There is no future version of you here.” he clarified, voice slightly strained.

Tord found himself both disappointed and relieved. He honestly didn't know how he'd even deal with an older him. This was probably for the best. “And the rest?”

Thomas seemed to struggle with words and Matthew scratched at the skin above his metal chin (what. the fuck.) nervously, “It's... something of a long story?”

Tord stared at him and waited until it became clear that Matthew wasn't going to elaborate. He frowned, “I've got time.” Sadly so, now that his budding revolution had been dismantled.

It wasn't either of them who answered his question, though, but Edd. “A bit over a week ago, Edward, future me, came back in time to try and kill me.”

Tord honestly found it hard to look Edd straight in the eye, but he really couldn't help but stare at that bizarre opening, “What.” it was less of a question and more of a flat declaration of utter confusion.

Edd huffed from his seat on the armchair, “Yeah, well. He didn't manage it. Then these two showed up. And then Matt broke their time machines, so we let them all stay here until the can find a way back.”

Tord blinked. Well then, that made total sense. Probably. Maybe.

“And now that you're caught up.” Edd continued, shooting him a beatific smile that had a chill running down Tord's spine, “I hope you're aware that you owe us a few explanations, Tord.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Paul exit the room into the hallway, already pulling out a cigarette. Distantly, he heard the backdoor open and close. Edd was still staring at him, his gaze darkening steadily.

There was a strange pressure in the room, every pair of eyes was on him. Matt, Matthew and Thomas looked uneasy while Tom, unsurprisingly, was almost glaring at him. His gaze slid to the last remaining person in the room – he knew he was stalling but for the life of him he could _not_ bring himself to look at Edd right now, so instead he looked at a different Edd.

A different Edd who was holding himself apart from everyone else. A different Edd who wore exhaustion and apathy just as well as a strangely familiar leather duster. A different Edd who was staring right back at him.

Something snapped when their eyes met.

Edward's lips pulled back into a snarl as his eyes first flashed, then outright _glowed_ a bright, fluorescent green. His tight fists were trembling as he took a step forward. The moment he moved, however, Thomas was suddenly standing in front of Tord, gun drawn. Tord stared at the unfolding confrontation in wide-eyed, slightly horrified shock, much like everyone else.

“Get out of my way, Thomas.” Edward growled and his voice was rough and choked up with absolute, all-consuming fury in a way he had never heard from Edd before.

Thomas shook his head, “I can't do that, Edward. Please calm down.”

“Calm down?” Edward said in a low voice, “You want me to calm down? Fine. I'll calm down when he's _dead_.”

Tord's world tilted sideways for a moment, suddenly everything was just a bit _off_. He couldn't have heard right, no, that was-

Why would Edward want to _kill him_?!

Everything was static, he could barely hear the rest of the exchange past the deafening rush of blood in his ears.

“Don't make me shoot you.” came Thomas' mostly steady reply.

Edward barked out a harsh, ugly laugh, “Oh, _now_ you hesitate to pull the trigger? That's just rich. You _know_ what he's done, Thomas. Why did you think bringing him here was a good idea?”

Thomas gritted his teeth, “He hasn't done anything. And we rescued him from prison, where else was I supposed to bring him?”

“Well, he must've been there for a _reason_!” Edward snapped.

“He was wounded-”

“THEN LET HIM BLEED OUT AND SPARE THE WORLD THE SUFFERING!”

“You know I can't do that!”

“ _DO I_? Because from this angle it looks like you've been able to slip out of you leash for years! But you chose to stay with Red! Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't just shoot him in the head and be done with all this!”

It wasn't Thomas who answered but Matthew, looking torn and pained, “Edward, please...”

Edward stared into an apprehensive but borderline pleading eye, still as big and blue as he remembered. He could feel his teeth grinding as his jaw creaked. He took a step, forward, the another, fists still clenched in shaking fury.

Thomas tensed, the finger on the trigger shifted. But-

Edward stepped closer still.

But-

Only a meter between them.

_But he couldn't shoot._

Icy terror burned through his veins at the realization, freezing him in place. Edward's fiery glare blazed a whole through him. One step, another-

And Edward walked by him, by the sofa, by everyone, towards the front door.

“I refuse to stay under the same roof as him.” he gritted out.

The door slammed shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...welp  
>  tord must be pretty confused and overwhelmed
> 
> Please leave a comment on your way out, it would be greatly appreciated!!  
> And come talk to me @ lunahras.tumblr.com


	27. Strange Sparks in Dead Eyes

Rain was pouring outside, there was nothing good on TV and Eduardo was absolutely  _bored_ . Oh he was sure there was something he was supposed to be doing at the moment but he really couldn't bring himself to think about it. Instead he let himself sink into his own head as the TV droned on.

His thoughts swirled in his head, briefly touching upon a few subjects before dropping them entirely, flitting from thought to thought. His neighbours? God no. Himself? Yeah, not happening. The rain? It was wet, there was a lot, not much to think about. His housemates? Well...

Mark had gotten thoughtful as of late. And thinking about it so had Jon. Except Eduardo knew Mark was thinking about the absolute bizarreness of the house next door, especially the gingers, but he wasn't quite sure what Jon had to be so contemplative about. Jon... didn't really question things that most people would. He believed in mermaids, took what people told him at face value... honestly the only thing Eduardo had ever heard him deny the existence of was ghosts. Something about curses and the dead staying dead...

So really, Jon being so thoughtful about their neighbours (because what else could it be, really?) was kind of a surprise to him. He'd have thought Jon would accept it and let it go the moment the new guys were introduced as stranded time-travelers. But he seemed to have been pondering something for a few days now and he wondered if that freak Edward had said something weird.

He'd definitely said  _many_ weird things to Eduardo, most of which he refused to acknowledge for the sake of his sanity and dignity. Really, that man had  _issues_ . And a really strange fixation on Eduardo he had yet to find an explanation for. It was certainly not shameless, passive-aggressive flirting. Nope. No sir. That was not in fact what was happening. This was  _Edd_ , for fuck's sake, older or not.

Ah, but he should probably stop thinking about him, lest he somehow manage to summon the man to his doorstep. His eyes managed to focus on the TV for a few seconds before immediately unfocusing out of sheer disinterest. Man, they should probably invest in a new satellite dish at some point, though none of them could really afford it at the moment. Edd's probably had something like a thousand channels, with the amount of TV those three bums watched. Maybe they should renovate the house to make it look better. Then again, money.

...how much would a sheet of cardboard the size of a building cost, he wondered.

Before he could start calculating area with the average cost of cardboard boxes, however, the doorbell rang. He stared at the door. Mark and Jon were still inside, he knew that, so who in their right mind would be outside in this rain?

He reluctantly got up and walked to the door to open it. The sight that greeted him on the other side was none other than Edward.

….goddammit, he really _could_ be summoned with thoughts!

“No.” was Eduardo's reply to whatever the hell he was going to say as he closed the door in his face.

Or tried to, at least, if it weren't for the foot that had lodged itself between the door and the frame before he could close it fully in an infuriating imitation of his own move next door over a week ago.

“I need a place to stay the night.” said Edward, and Eduardo gritted his teeth as he gave up an closing the door and glared straight into Edward's unflinching gaze.

“ _Hell_ no. You don't get to just-”

“ _Please_.”

Eduardo stopped short and took a moment to actually  _look_ at Edward. He was soaked from head to toe, which wasn't a surprise. But beyond that he looked... drained, absolutely  _bone-weary_ in a way that couldn't even begin to compare to his usual tired demeanor. His strained voice and empty eyes, swimming with a sort of hollowness he could barely comprehend, belied a sense of vulnerability that made Eduardo feel uncomfortable to just witness. And there was an air about Edward that strongly reminded him of last week's  _Incident_ , a tight, trembling embrace laced with grief and sorrow and  _desperation_ , but devoid of that small spark of hope.

He was the very picture of defeat and for the life of him Eduardo couldn't find it in himself to turn him away now. He grimaced in frustration and a strange tangle of emotions, but stepped aside to open the door a bit wider. It was as much of an invitation as he was willing to give.

To his surprise, instead of immediately trampling inside soaking wet and with muddy shoes, Edward took the time to take off his shoes and dripping leather jacket before he made it further than the doorway and holding them in his arms. As if he knew just how much Eduardo detested having to clean up after visitors and their filthy street shoes.

“Where should I put these?” Edward asked plainly, as if it was something people often asked when entering this house.

Well, then. How... weirdly pleasing.

Eduardo silently pointed at the coat rack and shoe rack beside the door. He closed the door when Edward moved to them, feeling strangely conflicted, though he couldn't really tell about what.

“Stay here. I'll get you a towel so you can stop dripping on the floor.” he felt himself say somewhat absently, going to retrieve said towel before handing it to Edward, who took it with a nod and started drying off all excess liquid on him and the floor beneath him.

Eduardo watched his almost robotic movements out of the corner of his eye with a small, considering frown. Once Edward deemed himself dry enough not to make a mess out of the rest of the house, he looked up to say something, but the words seemed to escape him from one moment to the next, leaving him looking frozen and a bit lost.

Eduardo decided to just walk down the hall, knowing from the nearly silent footsteps behind him that Edward was following dutifully. He halted in front of a door he hadn't stopped to look at in a while and gazed at Edward's oddly silent form, a bit uneasy for reasons he didn't care to examine.

“Guest room. Has been sitting empty since or fourth housemate left so it might be a bit dusty. There's still a few old shirts and lounge pants in the wardrobe. Bathroom is down the hall to the left. Don't blow anything up.” and with that he turned to leave this whole ordeal behind him until he absolutely had to be confronted with it again. Except there was a hand gripping the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. He looked back and glowered, “What.”

Edward was looking to the side, seemingly searching for words, before he looked up into his face with just the barest hint of light in those dead, hollow eyes. “Thank you.” he said, voice strangled and hoarse, and something inside Eduardo softened just the slightest bit at the sight, at the words, at  _something_ about the strange, infuriating, confusing man before him.

He looked at the door of the room so he wouldn't have to look at Edward anymore, who elicited strange, strange things from deep inside him.

“Yeah, whatever. Just don't get sick. Take a shower or something.”

The hand released his sleeve and he was free to walk away and temporarily forget the whole exchange had ever happened.

So why did it feel like a tiny part of him was still standing at that door?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeeeey guys, have a lil glimpse into the neighbouring house, hmm? tord can deal with his issues next chapter, this was a stress venting chap (also i hc that jon's family is cursed to linger after death but he had a bad experience with some ancestor and has lived in denial ever since)
> 
> soooooo hey, ive added two new illustrations to chapters 20 and 23 respectively. sorry i keep inserting them after the fact instead of with my chapter updates but i dont really plan either so its hard to sync them beforehand.
> 
> also fair warning, i wont be updating for a few days, ive got an oral literature exam coming up and need to study. maybe after monday ill come back, hmm?
> 
> anyway, comments give me life and distract me from my constant anxiety so they're very welcome!!!  
> and come talk to me @ lunahras.tumblr.com


	28. Soldier Boy

Silence blanketed the room, heavy and deafening and constricting, a clawed, merciless grip around his heart squeezing and _squeezing-_

The world started growing blurry and Tord blinked it away, falling back to a more closed off demeanor. This wasn't the time nor the place to bare himself to the world.

(It _had_ been once, once upon a time this had been the _only_ place he could act true to himself for the most part, but things had obviously changed.)

He tried in vain to formulate the question that was burning on his lips, but this was all too complicated, too tangled up, and he couldn't possibly find the words. It was frustrating as all hell but he tried anyway, “What... why...” his throat closed up suddenly and he couldn't utter another word for a moment. It seemed though, that Thomas knew exactly what he'd meant to ask (and wasn't _that_ creepy, that Tom's older self of all people was so in tune with him).

Thomas looked at the door instead of at him in what Tord suspected was an attempt to avoid meeting his gaze without making it obvious. “Your... future self and Edward... don't really have the best of relationships.”

And.

Tord could only stare at him in a mix of bafflement, horror and condescension, “He wanted to _kill_ me.” the words dripped from his lips like venom, splashing and spreading and tainting his ears with his own words, corroding his very reality. They felt painful and heavy, like a confirmation.

Like judgment.

Was this his future?

He'd known he'd be sacrificing a lot for his ambitions. He'd known the things, the _people_ he was leaving behind. Even as he'd hoped that maybe one day, once his mission was fulfilled, he'd be able to get them back, he'd forced himself to acknowledge the reality of the situation. Tord was in a precarious position as a budding revolutionary and his friends would have been a distraction of the potentially fatal kind.

He'd known they might feel bitter about that, resentful and maybe hateful. The world he wanted to create wasn't something everyone would immediately accept, especially not with the way he'd been planning to go about achieving it. It would leave scars, but it would also leave all four of them alive and relatively unharmed as long as he succeeded.

He'd _known-_

He'd _thought-_

He'd _hoped-_

But something... something must have gone incredibly wrong. Because these versions of his old friends weren't anything like he'd expected. Matthew was so quiet, so withdrawn, and his _face-_

Thomas seemed passive yet his very skin thrummed with agression _,_ and so weirdly, strangely protective, so harsh and linear, like a well trained _soldier-_

And Edward.

Edward wanted to kill him.

Edward couldn't even look at him without the black tendrils of hatred gripping at his heart and shining from his eyes what would he do what he done what h _ad he done-_

“-ord! Tord! Snap out of it!”

Tord almost jumped out of his skin, his vacant gaze finally focusing to see Edd's half disgruntled, half concerned face extremely close to his own. He startled back, which was hell on the wound in his side, and frowned down at his lap, stubbornly silent.

Edd sighed in aggravation, “Don't think about it too much.”

“But-!”

“You've got your own questions to answer, Tord.”

His mouth clicked shut.

At that moment Tom, who had apparently left the room for a while without him noticing, reentered the living room from the kitchen, pointing behind him with a thumb, “He's at the neighbours'.”

A tension Tord hadn't noticed before drained from Edd even as Thomas' shoulders hunched instead. Tord himself tensed once again at the reminder of the hurtbetrayedhateful man. Edd turned to him.

“Now that you're not dying and I know where to find Edward,” he said gravely, “we need to talk.”

Ha.

Haha.

No.

“We don't.” his voice came out firm and unbending, a quality he'd had to learn in order to become at least something of a proper military leader. There was much he'd failed at, culminating in the regrettable full takedown of his little movement, but this was one thing he'd had to master early on. Be a statue of pure marble, unbendable, unbreakable, unshakable.

It was about time.

Edd frowned, “Wha-”

“I don't know what it is you want from me and I frankly don't care, Edd. But I don't know what's going on and you're all looking at me like you dearly want to accuse me of many things so I won't say anything until I know what this... what _this_ is.” he took a deep breath. A bit too demanding, but better than mute acceptance at least.

But now Edd seemed incensed and Tom behind him looked downright offended. “ _This_ , Tord,” Tom started, almost snarling, “is because you're a fucking asshole with apparently degrading sanity.”

Tord scowled, inwardly confused beyond measure. “What the _fuck_ are talking about?! How is this whole time travel mess you guys have going on in any way related to me?!” because there was obviously something and he'd dearly like to know what.

Edd's demeanor had shifted now, instead looking strained, “Tom, wait, don't-”

“Don't what, Edd? Throw the truth in his face? Edward's right, I don't see why they even brought him here. He's a bloody criminal and he left of his own accord!”

Tord bared his teeth, sharp canines glinting menacingly, “I'm the leader of a _revolution_ , you-”

Tom looked three seconds away from punching him in the face, “You're an out of control, manipulative son of a-”

“Tom!”

A fist came flying at Tord, but before he could even think of evading and probably aggravating his brand new stitches, a hand shot out from beside him, catching the incoming fist and twisting it behind the assailant's back as he was thrown onto the ground face first. This all happened in the span of about two seconds, leaving the rest of them reeling somewhat as Thomas pushed his knee into Tom's back to keep him in place.

“Don't move.” his voice sounded robotic and monotonous, absolutely nothing like Tom, nothing like more accepting Thomas of the last few days.

And Tord had no idea what to think. Why. Why why why why. That was a very good question, really. _Why defend him?_

Why why why was Thomas so quiet reverent respectful robotic why why why

“Thomas!”

“Let him go!”

A twitch, almost a flinch, and Thomas seemed to waver in his position, seemingly just realizing what he was doing. With a discreet look in Tord's direction he jerkily let go and stood up, a shudder running down his back. “Sorry,” he muttered shakily and moved to stand beside Tord once again as if on autopilot.

Tom was staring at Thomas in something akin to betrayal as Edd and Matt helped him up and Matthew stood to the side, refusing to involve himself. But Tord didn't see any of that, could only stare at Thomas in something like wonderment and like cold cold fear and it sparked something within him, like adrenaline but rushing and exciting and terrible and so so terrifyingly open.

He had a niggling suspicion, a thought that seemed utterly ridiculous but-

But maybe.

He opened his mouth and spoke in a hard tone he'd used on his meager troops back in Norway, “Explain.”

Thomas straightened.

And then he explained.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter did NOT want to be written. fuck this chapter seriously. also fuck tord and his stupid ass interfering in my established dynamics, why did i think this would be a good idea?? -sigh- i was listening to my melancholic playlist while writing this and i think it shows a bit
> 
> also im aghast! no one said anything about my cute, wonderful new colored illustration in chapter 20! (i worked 4 hours on that seriously guys)
> 
> anyway, heeeeey, comments really motivate me to write so it'd be nice to get some ^^;  
> and talk to me on tumblr at lunahras.tumblr.com


	29. Red Leader

Edd, Tom and Matt had left for their rooms a while ago, disgruntled and hurt because obviously they wouldn't be getting answers any time soon, followed by a slightly hesitant Matthew. And Thomas...

Thomas had started talking, evenly and formally as if giving a report to a superior. He talked about a revolution, about a new world regime and its glorious leader at the very top, reigning over the world he had envisioned and created through pure brute force and cruel charisma, carving paths of blood and viscera in his wake.

He talked about an uprising, about old friends going against the new regime, about winning them over one by one and killing the rest until there was only one left, alone and powerless and hunted like a wild animal.

(He talked about a time travel device, a purposefully suicidal plan and the consequences of a failed retrieval mission.)

And Tord reeled, could barely wrap his head around it all, it was so much to take in. He'd... succeeded... _would_ succeed? This whole time travel business was rather confusing, really.

He should feel... elated. And he was! But hearing about it was one thing and experiencing it a whole other. It felt hollow somehow, but at the same time absolutely thrilling, to have such solid proof of his eventual success.

And _Thomas_. Thomas seemed to be that proof. A perfect soldier, disciplined, loyal, unquestioning and absolutely effective, sculpted from a lazy drunkard of a man. A _former enemy_ even.

Tom.

Of all people, Thomas Ridge was apparently one of his most loyal and valued soldiers. Of course, he was taking this all with a grain of salt, but he had yet to detect any willful deception in Thomas' tone or body language. It was a bizarre concept, and yet here was the irrefutable evidence quite literally staring him in the eye with his own electric green gaze (cancer, Tom had _eye cancer_ , how the fuck was he even supposed to _feel_ about that?!).

It sent a shiver through Tord, the side of him that screamed and demanded to _dominate_ and _control_ and _possess_ almost purring in languid satisfaction.

(The other part, the part had missed his friends dearly in the past three years, that he'd had to silence because of exactly that, cried and raged and insisted that Thomas was broken and shattered, that Edward hated him, that Matthew wanted nothing to do with him. It wept for friendships lost and cold, lifeless assets gained in their stead. It fought and scratched and raked its broken nails along the walls of his heart.

It hurt, just a bit, to see what he could reduce his closest friends to, given the opportunity.)

“Red Leader.”

The title rolled off his tongue smoothly, beautifully. The epitome of what would become his achievements, his ambition, his _strength_.

Red Leader.

It sounded powerful, fearsome, fitting for a hegemon of military origins. It sounded like the fires that would consume anything in his path, leaving nothing but pitiful ashes behind.

Red Leader.

It made him feel invigorated, inspired. There was power and authority in that title, over others and over himself. Over the whole world.

Red Leader.

It was heavy, bound to the very weight of the world. A dream thought impossible, a merciful tyranny.

Red Leader.

He could feel it in his soul, tugging and tugging and ripping, making itself at home, moving less important things out of the way.

Red Leader.

Pressure and weight and ties and claws under his skin, burrowing in his chest.

Red Leader.

Red Leader.

Red Leader.

Red Leader.

Red Leader.

It made him nauseous.

Distantly he noticed his breathing picking up, coming in short, ragged gasps. His chest felt heavy, weighed down with a future he couldn't begin to process. He couldn't feel his hands but his torso almost burned and he could very clearly feel every excruciating detail of his wounds. Shoulder, side, thigh. Shoulder, side, thigh. Shoulder, side, thigh.

Shouldn't they be hurting?

He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder and immediately flinched away from it in an almost violent manner, vaguely feeling something snap in his side.

His wounds should still hurt.

...right?

There was a buzzing in his head and he could barely hear the world around him over it. And his gaze was blank, unfocused, so he strained his ears to catch something, _anything_ over the buzz.

“-ow your breathing, Tord. Breathe with me, come on.”

He absently felt one of his numb, numb hands being lifted by the wrist and placed upon something warm and living and smooth. The warmth granted it some feeling back and he realized he was pressing his hand against a chest, rising and falling at a slow, even rhythm. He tried to mimic it. His lungs felt like they were frozen stiff and burned the more deeply he tried to breathe, but slowly, oh so agonizingly, glacially slowly, they thawed and his breathing evened out.

Finally he felt like he could see again, could move again without collapsing like a house of cards. He took another deep breath, just to reassure himself that his lungs were still there. He stared at the hand on his lap, it still felt numb. The fingers curled at his command, but he couldn't feel them.

All of sudden he came to the realization that his other hand was still pressing flat against someone's chest and he snapped it back just as his head whipped up to look into virtually rendered eyes.

“...are you alright?” Thomas almost whispered, and there was something in his voice that felt almost... gentle.

Tord sneered before he even processed the question, “Of course I'm alright! That was... that was nothing. I-” inadvertently his eyes were drawn to his hand, it still felt warm, almost comfortingly so, “...what's _wrong_ with me?”

“Tord...?”

His eyes snapped back to Thomas', barely acknowledging the concerned set of his brows, and looked manically into his artificial gaze, as if desperately searching for something.

“You're from the future and you just told me of my _absolute_ and _overwhelming_ success and I should be celebrating, I should be ecstatic!”

Thomas' lips thinned and his jaw clenched, “...aren't you?”

Tord's eyes held a glint of something complex and incomprehensible, but decidedly frantic. Still, his face twisted with disdain at the question, “I am! Of course I am! I'm elated beyond imagination, excited, fantastic! I- You- I...” he felt his lids blinking quickly, as if trying to stave something off, and his body started leaning forwards, unbalanced and heavy, “...I need to throw up...”

Tord only saw Thomas standing up and leaving out of the corner of his eye, face directed towards the floor as it was. Thomas reemerged from the kitchen soon after with a bucket in his hand which was immediately placed between Tord's legs.

He stared into the gray, spotted depths of the bucket. There was grime in a corner. Except, heh, circles don't have corners.

The most powerful man in the world. That was his fate and he'd do anything to fulfill it. Shove aside anyone, break anything.

The world was broken. His revolution was worth any price, no matter how high.

Carnage, sacrifice, agony, death, torture.

Suffering.

Isolation.

Hatred.

Broken men left at his feet as he razed the world to the ground and built it back up from the ashes. Blood spilled and bonds torn and hearts shattered and people cracked and broken and hollow.

And at the top an unfaltering golden idol bathed in the glorious blood of his victories, so that those unworthy would pave the way to his elevation.

Crimson mist in the air around its head.

Scarlet running in rivers down its base.

A Red Leader.

He threw up.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTICE**  
>  As you've probably noticed I'm not entirely happy with this fic's title and have been meaning to replace it. If you want a say in this please tell me your opinion on the poll in the link below. I'll probably keep it open for about a week, depending on how many react and how fast they do.  
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSe59fvTFY-rpmzwICx-l7GivDR1k-p_YJaUJAJ_RvHMA9EujQ/viewform?usp=sf_link
> 
> and now that that's done, lemme tell you about how off the rails tord's characterization went in this chapter and how much im gonna have to adjust after this shit. muffindammit tord.  
> edit: oops forgot the title tee hee
> 
> (i kneel before you, o mighty reader, and beg you for a comment, so that my eternal thrist may be sated but for a moment)  
> also talk to me @ lunahras.tumblr.com


	30. A Comforting Welcome

Tom was the first to storm away, a cloud of gloom following in his wake. Edd and Matt were a bit hesitant but Tord had been clear in his previous denial and he seemed wholly absorbed by Thomas' words at the moment anyway, so they followed at a slower pace. They heard Tom's door slam shut just as they turned into the hallway.

Surprisingly, they found Paul leaning on the wall at the corner of the hall. Edd frowned slightly, “I thought you went out for a smoke.” he said softly.

Paul inclined his head, “I did. And then it started raining.”

Edd winced in sympathy as he finally noticed the dampness of his hair and borrowed pink sweater (apparently a leftover from Tord's move that Tom had recently found in his room). He considered for a moment shooing the man away from his eavesdropping spot but then decided otherwise. Thomas and Matthew must have brought him with them for a reason, and besides he seemed nice enough, former prisoner or not. Or maybe he just didn't really care right then.

As they walked further down the hall with a pensive silence between them, Matthew also joined them, apparently having opted out of the situation in the living room. They paused for a moment to let him catch up but he barely seemed to notice either of them or even have the energy to walk all that long as he swayed a bit and collapsed on the wall several steps before Matt's room door. He held his head in one of his hands, releasing a heavy, trembling sigh.

Matt and Edd exchanged a concerned look and hurried to Matthew's side. Edd took a gentle hold of the hand on his face, slowly removing it to reveal Matthew's marred profile, twisted with some sort of inner conflict. He took the smaller, colder hand in both of his, “Hey... are you alright?”

Matthew stared silently, almost hollowly at his hand between Edd's. Matt's frown deepened and he decided they really shouldn't be having this conversation in the hallway. He took a gentle but firm hold of Matthew's arm and led them both into his room and to his bed, the door softly falling shut behind them.

Matthew fell on the bed almost bonelessly, hunched over and still staring emptily at his and Edd's somehow still joint hands.

“...Matthew?”

His hand twitched between the larger ones but his gaze remained hollow. Matt was growing incredibly concerned now, as was Edd, and he softly pressed himself against Matthew.

Finally, the older man spoke, his voice rough and lowered almost to a whisper, “...I don't know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked softly, encouraging him to talk.

“I don't... know what I have to do anymore. Go back... to the army, or... stay... who am I even loyal to anymore?”

Edd and Matt stared at each other over his lowered head and seemed to have a silent conversation. Edd finally broke off, licking his chapped lips in thought and trying to word himself carefully, “For starters, how about yourself?”

That finally got a reaction out of Matthew as he lifted his head and blinked in confusion, “...what?”

Matt pushed him slightly with his shoulder, “ _You_ , Matthew.”

“What do _you want_ to do?” Edd finished up for him, staring firmly into Matthew's mismatched eyes, one metallic,shining red, the other big and blue and entirely too alluring even with the many worries and dark thoughts that swam in its depths, and both of them gradually widening.

“I... I don't...” he looked back down at his lap, gaze turning inwards and brow furrowing in deep thought.

What was there for him in his own time?

A torn, incomplete friendship. A life of a soldier, submerged in a haze of hatred and bitterness, and if not that then constant doubt and regret. A high, influential position in the army.

But what was there for him _here_?

His focus turned outwards again and he saw Matt's hand on his lap, right next to his own, almost touching. He saw his other hand between Edd's larger, warmer ones.

Maybe.

Possibly.

_This_ .

When he looked up it was to Matt giving him a small, gentle smile that seemed to light up the world, and to Edd looking at him intently with keen brown eyes and saying with no perceivable hesitation, “You'll always have a place here, if you want it.”

Stunned, Matthew could only mumble, “I thought this was supposed to be temporary.”

Edd seemed to realize what exactly he'd just said and quickly looked away, ears going red as he coughed awkwardly and finally released Matthew's hand. He found he immediately missed the warmth.

“Yeah, well...”

Matt picked up the conversation in his stead with an air of amusement, “Things aren't exactly like they were before anymore.” he said, blue boring into identical blue and cybernetic red, “And it doesn't look like going back is your first priority anymore either. We don't... want you to go if  _you_ don't want to, Matthew.”

“But paradoxes...”

Edd scratched the back of his head, still looking away, “Well, existence has yet to be ripped apart and you've been here well over a week so...”

Matthew could feel moisture gathering at the corner of his eye and he quickly blinked it away. A hand rose without his conscious command and gently turned Edd's head to look at him, resting tenderly on his now rose-tinted cheek. Once Edd's gaze fell back on him he gave him a small, incredibly warm smile, possibly the most genuine he'd managed to form in...  _years_ .

“ _Thank you_.” he said, pouring as much weight and sincerity into the word as he possibly could and watching as Edd's cheeks grew redder. He let his hand drop to take Matt's in its grasp instead, turning to look at him, “Both of you.”

Matt looked sideways with a bashful smile, scratching his warming cheek, and seemed about to say something when a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, another doing the same to Edd, and suddenly brought them both down to the bed with Matthew's falling upper body. The older ginger huffed out a short laugh as they both yelped in shock, heads landing jarringly on each of his shoulders as he held them close.

Edd was the first to recover, punching at his chest in halfway genuine annoyance, “You absolute ass!” Matthew released a small chuckle as Matt finally got his bearings and giggled alongside him. “Oh of course  _you'd_ find it funny. Traitor.” he muttered, poking at Matt with the hand that wasn't pinned between him and Matthew. Said man hummed in contentment and held them a bit closer, somehow nuzzling into both heads of soft hair simultaneously.

Pink dusted Matt's cheeks by this point and Edd's face flushed, finding himself momentarily mute as he realized exactly what this looked like.

“Ah, well, it's been a long day, I better go get some rest.” he chuckled nervously and made to sit up.

“Mh hm.” Matthew hummed into his hair, still holding onto him and showing no sign of letting go any time soon.

“Matthew, I have my own room. With my own bed.”

“Hmm.”

“...” Edd sighed and then frowned slightly as a thought came to him, “...are you trying to comfort _me_?”

Matthew stilled but immediately relaxed again, taking a deep breath that slightly lifted Matt and Edd's heads.

“...I know it can't be easy, to have him back but unwilling to talk. I... I'm sorry that we brought him here, we just didn't know...”

Edd's frown deepened, “No, I'm glad you did. It's just I hoped... I hoped we could...” his hand unconsciously clenched, grasping at Matthew's sweater.

A sigh, “I know.”

Edd's now white-knuckled grip suddenly loosened as a smaller, cooler hand landed on top of his, and he looked to see Matt, face so close to his own, giving him a sad but reassuring smile. He let himself relax.

Tord was here now, he wouldn't be going anywhere at the moment. They had time. They would talk. Just not today.

That was okay.

Without realizing it he sank deeper into Matthew's hold as his exhaustion from the last two days of worrying caught up with him.

He slept a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another episode of "matthew just fucking goes for it"! bolder than edward's passive aggressive flirting, hes the only hope we have of letting the romantic subplot finally get somewhere! honestly tho the angst turned into pure fluff without my consent wtf happened
> 
> so hey, if you havent yet, please vote on the poll regarding whether i should change the title of the fic, thanks!  
> https://goo.gl/forms/siQlHG7iot09VOTG2
> 
> may this humble writer ask for comments to feed her poor children, motivation and validation  
> talk to me @ lunahras.tumblr.com


	31. Discussions While Moon Watching

Tord now got to sleep in what he remembered being Tom's room, before he  _apparently_ took over Tord's old room. He was a tad concerned over his secret lab, but otherwise didn't pay it much mind. It's not like he was planning to stay on the long term. He hadn't been planning to come back at all, honestly, but well, he was here now.

Sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the guest bedroom of the house he used to live in.

Or, well, trying to sleep at least. Thomas had brought him here after cleaning up his embarrassing breakdown over  _nothing_ and had seemingly attempted to keep watch as Tord rested, not saying a single word about the little incident thankfully. Keyword being attempted, of course, as he'd fallen asleep not long after sitting down at the edge of the mattress.

Tord would've made an unheard scathing remark on lack of discipline, except it was hard not to notice the dark rings peeking out from under his visor. He wondered in the quiet of the night when the last time Thomas had slept was. He certainly hadn't on the way back to England, although he'd seen Matthew and Paul napping in the plane.

Tord himself felt exhausted, even after his short nap previously. Plus he'd had to have his side redone after accidentally pulling the stitches during his... his panic attack.

Because that's what his little  _incident_ had been. He'd heard the tale of his own rise to power and great success  _and then he'd had a panic attack_ . He couldn't even blame the pressure of expected performance and so on, he was confident that he'd eventually achieve his goals. He'd been prepared to do absolutely  _anything_ -

Or at least he'd thought he was. But hearing about the bloody, corpse laden path he'd carved out on his way to the top as  _history_ , as  _fact,_ instead of imagined scenarios...

It put a whole new perspective to the whole thing that he wasn't terribly sure he'd ever have wanted to acknowledge.

Tord groaned miserably. His head hurt and he was overthinking things again. Needing something to distract him from his thoughts for at least a bit he decided to get a glass of water. Grabbing the crutch that Thomas had somehow magicked out of thin air, he slowly stood up, mindful of his injuries, and headed out the door.

The walk down the hallway was slow and humiliating and more of a limping hobble than anything else really. He was just glad no one else was awake to witness him making an utter fool of himself-

This train of thought halted entirely and died a swift death once he turned into the living room, where a now familiar figure currently sat on the sofa, decidedly awake. A trail of cancerous smoke drifted from both his lips and the cigarette in his hand and for just a moment Tord longed dearly for a nice cigar to take a drag of. The moment passed and he pulled himself together. He was military, no place for such decadence (and no money for it either if he wanted to have any sort of funds).

“It's a nice night out there.”

The man's gruff voice snapped him away from his musings and the question slipped out of him before he could stop it.

“What are you doing?”

Paul turned his head towards him just enough that his raised eyebrow was visible, “Moon watching.”

“Ah, no, I meant...” he trailed off, not really knowing why he'd asked in the first place.

Paul hummed for a moment, “You mean what am I doing  _here_ ?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He took another drag of his cigarette, lungs filling up with smoke and then emptying out in a long exhale. “Same as you I guess. I was broken out of prison by a couple of strangers who decided to take me along.” he sent Tord a sideways glance, “Though I guess they're not quite strangers to you, hm?”

Tord swallowed dryly, his voice coming out hoarser than he'd expected. “No. They're not.”

Paul nodded, as if confirming something, before he looked back out the window of the living room. There was a moment of silence between them which might not have been awkward to Paul but it sure as hell was to Tord. Finally he decided to say something-

“So I heard you're practically guaranteed success as a world class tyrant.”

-and promptly choked on his own spit, prompting a coughing fit. Once it calmed down he shot Paul a wary look.

“What's it to you?”

Paul shrugged. “I'm a soldier on the run with no job, I don't really have anything better to do.” And yeah, alright, that made sense, “But you don't seem too keen on the idea yourself anymore.”

Tord's gaze focused entirely on the man on the sofa with laser-like intensity as a growl slipped out of his throat, “Don't presume to know what I want, Paul.”

Paul returned his stare with all of the same confidence and none of the intensity, eyes half-lidded and smoke drifting lazily around his head. He was silent for a few beats before drawling out, “Would you like to sit down, maybe?”

Tord was about ready to refuse out of sheer spite, scowl darkening, but his side and leg were actually getting to be pretty achy so he reluctantly took the soldier up on his offer and sat down on the armchair so as not to come too close to him.

Paul watched him with an air of entertained bemusement, “You know how I got myself in prison?”

The subject change was jarring and Tord needed a few seconds in order to answer, “...you said desertion.”

“Hmmm, yeah. To be more precise, I realized pretty late in the game that I didn't particularly agree with a lot of the government's policies, which I was bound to serve. I would've probably handed in a resignation after my time of service or something, but I just so happened to come to this realization while I was absolutely hammered.” he chuckled, taking another drag from his barely there cigarette, “So instead I decided the best thing to do with that was stealing a plane, loudly declaring I was deserting, and almost crashing said plane into Command.”

Tord blinked, taken aback by both the ridiculous feat and, well, “That's... great and all, but why are you telling me this?”

“Hm,well, I guess my point is that just because it something seems like a good idea at the time doesn't necessarily mean it actually _is_ one.”

The scowl returned full force, “I'm not  _drunk_ .” Tord practically snarled out. “I've been working on this for  _years_ , of course I've thought it through-!”

“I'm not saying that you are, and that you haven't,” Paul interjected, “That probably wasn't the best analogy to use anyway. But I _am_ saying that since the moment you came up with this whole idea, you probably haven't considered _once_ that it might be a bad idea. And I'm also not saying that it _is_.” he said quickly, forestalling Tord's heated protests, “I personally believe it's admirable actually.” that was his honest opinion actually, and it seemed to mollify Tord for the moment, “But the thing is, sometimes you get an idea that seems amazing, enlightening, eye-opening, so you don't get around to really looking for any cons. And the more time passes the more invested you become, the more you sacrifice for it and the less inclined you are to look for anything wrong. That's just how people work.” he shrugged.

Tord gritted his teeth, “Get to the point.” he demanded, and was a bit thrown off when Paul huffed out a short, amused laugh in response.

“My _point_ ,” he said with grating emphasis, “is that you've been faced with the reality of your decisions, the whole outcome of your plan, and you reacted badly to it even though you felt like you should've been celebrating. So maybe try looking if there isn't something wrong with it after all, for change, instead of uselessly agonizing over your own inner struggle.”

Tord clenched his fists. There were a great many words he wanted to fling in the Polish man's face, none of them fit for polite company, but something stopped him. A voice long ignored that whispered insidiously  _'Maybe he's right. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe your grand purpose is nothing but a self-constructed farce. Maybe maybe maybe you're just a failure'_ .

He couldn't allow himself to dwell on maybe's, never had and never would. Except he was now, because this man was offering him a sound opinion that made way too much fucking sense and now he couldn't shake the seed of uncertainty that had been planted.

Had he gone wrong somewhere?

Was Red Leader really what he wanted to become?

Had the last few years been a grand waste of time?

Every great revolution came with sacrifice. He knew that. He sought to incite conflict where the rest of the world strove for a delicate, unbalanced farce of peace. He wanted  _change_ , and for that some things had to topple over and would inevitably smash something or someone else in the process. That was all the natural progression of the world.

But was the suffering he'd inflict upon the world worth the war he wanted to wage?

He'd always thought 'yes', it had been his steadfast belief that the world as it was now didn't deserve his mercy.

Except apparently he couldn't stomach his own ruthlessness.

And maybe, just maybe, that might be a sign that something was off.

Ugh, it was too late (early?) for these kinds of thoughts, he was exhausted and had way too much to think about. He glance warily at Paul, who was eyeing the stump of his cig with a despondent air.

“You weren't nearly this chatty in prison.” he remarked, startling a rough laugh out of Paul.

“Prison isn't really the best place for three a.m. philosophical discussions while moon watching. I promise I'll be much quieter come morning.” he hummed, “There's something about this time of the night, I guess.”

Well, Tord couldn't really deny that. There was something alright about this time, undefinable yet undeniable. It opened you up and made you vulnerable and transparent and Tord hated it with a passion.

Because when he was transparent he could see through his own bullshit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit this chapter fought me tooth and nail. and yeah paul, youre being awfully, uncharacteristically chatty. damn you. not proofread because i seriously do not feel like it, this is hot stuff, fresh out the oven, have fun with that. i need to get tord to speak up more ugh... also his character arc is progressing mcuh faster than id planned UGH
> 
> last time ill be posting the link to the poll on this fic's title, if you still want to participate  
> https://goo.gl/forms/AQnvRFTnQrty2zi52
> 
> lastly i wanted to get this out today because i wont be around to write until sunday. yagirl's going to a con, whoo! (going to a weeb con as taako prob isnt the smartest cosplay decision ive ever made but meh, im a wizard and im absolutely fabulous). ill probably still reply to any coments (BECAUSE IM ALWAYS STARVED FOR COMMENTS) just with a bit of a delay, but dont expect another chapter until monday at the absolute earliest
> 
> please leave a comment for me to grin at like a maniac through the weekend on your way out!!  
> and talk to me on tumblr!! i am also starved for human interaction but without like, human faces. arent screens great?


	32. Ghosting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIVE  
> also fair warning i didnt proofread this

Maybe if he stared at the ceiling long enough it would give him the answers he'd been looking for in the last ten years.

Wishful thinking, yes, but it was what his muddled, exhausted brain was currently capable of.

Edward felt like he wanted to sigh, like he _should have_ been sighing right that moment, and yet he was barely breathing. Sighing would probably permanently empty his lungs or something equally ridiculous.

Or maybe all this musty air was getting to him, Edward mused. He wondered when the last time was that someone had opened that window. Or the door for that matter. The room had seemed pretty damn untouched when he'd been led in the previous day.

He wondered about this supposed fourth housemate. He'd honestly had no idea about this. Eduardo had never talked about this person, neither had Mark, and he hadn't actually _noticed_ he'd had neighbours until the cola incident. Well, he was gone now, and never really showed up again, so he must not be that important in the long ru-

His absolutely pointless train of thought was interrupted by the door opening and he couldn't even muster up the energy to turn his head and see whoever had just entered the room who would undoubtedly be-

“Hey freak, we need to talk.”

-Eduardo. Of course.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling, “Here to kick me out?”

“...in a way.”

Edward managed frown just the slightest bit in confusion as he heard the desk chair scrape along the floor and finally settle next to the bed, along with Eduardo himself.

“Since you're obviously planning on making a nuisance of yourself until whatever it is that drove you out of that damn house is resolved, we're gonna talk until your problem's solved.”

Edward blinked. Then blinked again. And then he finally turned his head to look at the younger man in slight astonishment. “ _What?_ ”

“You heard me.” he said with a mulish expression plastered on his face.

And Edward could only stare, because yeah, Eduardo had always been a good listener and adviser, but getting to that part of him usually required a lot of opening up before hand, which had desidedly not happened in this timeline. At least he was pretty sure it hadn't. Relatively sure. Honestly his head felt kind of funny so maybe-

“ _Why_?” he asked instead of dwelling on the painful truths of his situation (unfamiliarity in his eyes, a lack fond warmth, and he missed it all so so much).

“Because I want you _out of my house_.”

The vehemence in his voice startled a small huff out of Edward, just light enough to maybe be called a chuckle. “Aww, I didn't know you _cared_.” he mocked playfully, familiarly (and if the other weren't so obviously younger he would've felt like he was back at the base, surrounded by friends).

Eduardo's face contorted almost comically in indignant rage, “Why you fucking maldito hijo de-” he visibly stopped himself and took a few breaths. This didn't surprise Edward, he knew Eduardo was at best reluctant to curse in his first language, even when he slipped. Growing up catholic would do that to you.

Edward turned his eyes back up to the drab, lifeless ceiling. “You guys are really too curious for your own good. Keep asking me to open up like a book or something... heh. You don't even trust me, really.”

“No.” Eduardo replied, “But your dumb ass seems to trust _me_ , for whatever reason. So...” he said with a somewhat bothered shrug, stopping Edward's train of thought in its tracks to contemplate over this.

“Well, if you want to know so badly...”

“I don't- !”

“...they brought Tord into the house.”

“You-” a perplexed silence, and then, “Who the fuck is Tord?”

“Our former housemate.”

“...yeah, that's not all of it.”

Edward hummed, acknowledging the point, “And a world-conquering madman of a tyrant in my time.”

“...”

Edward barely suppressed a sardonic smirk. Morbid(absolutelyterrifyingwhywashetalkingaboutthis) subject or not, striking Eduardo speechless would always be a highlight of his days.

“...and why would they let him in then?”

Edward shrugged as well as he could while lying down, “Thomas and Matthew work for him. And seem to be under some kind of delusion that this version of him is less...”

“Evil?” Eduardo completed his sentence in a tone as dry as the desert. “Is he?”

“Is he what?”

“Less _evil_?” Edward could just _hear_ the air quotes on that one.

“He's _Tord_.” he answered simply, still staring up, as if that explained everything. Which honestly, it did.

Eduardo didn't seem impressed however, “He's also fifteen years younger than the one you know.” he brought up, seemingly just for the sake of the argument.

Edward scoffed, scowling, “Oh please, he's rotten to the core. Has been for years.”

“Fifteen-”

“Five.”

“What?” he sounded irritated at being interrupted once again, but his curiosity won out.

“In five years, he would come back. Lie to us, tell us he was moving back in. Get his fucking giant robot from his lab and destroy our home. Yours too.”

Eduardo's skeptical frown deepened, but he didn't seem entirely ready to let go of the argument and the the subject was grating on Edward so much already that he couldn't stop the words before they slipped out.

“He killed Jon.”

Eduardo seemed to freeze entirely in his tracks, eyes widening in warring disbelief and horror. Edward immediately felt a heavy weight of guilt in his gut as he peeked at his face from the corner of his eye. He averted his gaze to the wall beside him instead. It was a dreadful shade of faded red that made something in his chest _ache_.

“...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-”

“No.” Eduardo stopped him before he could continue and his head unwittingly turns to look at the man. He was pale, but his eyes were unyielding, brimming with a familiar fire that momentarily took Edward's breath away. “I'm glad you did.” he said firmly, and the words sounded like promises and warm memories and whispers in dark rooms to his ears.

_(“I'm glad you came, Edd.”_

“ _I... I don't...”_

“ _Shhh, come here...”)_

Edward shook off the haze of memories overtaking his reality and muttered, almost hesitantly, “...alright.”

“But that still doesn't mean he's the same person.”

Edward's head whipped up in disbelief, chest rising up alongside it as he leaned on an elbow, “They got this one from _prison_.”

Eduardo snorted, color returning to his face, “Full offense, but I'm almost completely sure _you've_ been in prison.”

“I-” Edward wanted to refute him so bad, but, well... yeah, he'd totally been in prison. Several times.

The younger man raised a challenging eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk overtaking his lips, “Moron.”

Edward huffed and lay back down, staring pointed up at the ceiling once again, “Why are you even arguing for this?”

“Because you obviously haven't actually talked to him and I want you to get out of my house to go do that.”

Edward's snort turned into a wet laugh as he raised a hand to cover his eyes.

“Bastard.” he accused and the tremble in his voice was barely noticeable.

“Dumbass.” Eduardo shot right back at him with no hesitation.

0 0 0

He had been on the way to the kitchen for a late breakfast, eyes still bleary from sleep, when he noticed it.

There, hanging innocently on the coat rack, was a somewhat familiar leather trench coat.

Jon blinked, trying to assure himself that he wasn't just still half asleep and his dreams were bleeding into reality. Nope, the coat was still there.

Well then.

That meant that for whatever reason, Edward was here, in the house. The kitchen was absolutely silent and there had been no one in the living room, so he must have been in a room. Maybe he spent the night here?

Breakfast forgotten, Jon traced his steps right back to the hallway, smile firmly in place. He wasn't exactly sure why, but he liked Edward. Strange or not, the man was entertaining to be around. Plus he still had a few questions about the future he was absolutely going to annoy the answers out of him. Because obviously he was too good at judging questions otherwise. Jon still knew nothing of his future, seriously!

Now that he was more awake, he finally noticed that the door to Todd's old room was slightly ajar. That settled it, he was definitely in there. They never really used the room usually, so it went ignored for the most part. The last time he'd seen it open was years ago. He reached for the handle-

“In five years, he would come back. Lie to us, tell us he was moving back in. Get his fucking giant robot from his lab and destroy our home. Yours too.”

-and froze in his tracks, trying to process what he was hearing. What was this? Their house destroyed? Who were they even talking abo-

“He killed Jon.”

The world tilted.

_He killed Jon._

_He killed Jon._

_He killed Jon._

The silence on the other side of the door was oppressive, terrifying. He couldn't move, could barely breathe.

He was-

He was-

“ _Do you know future me? Is he cool? What am I like in... how far in the future are you from again?”_

_Edward stiffened, expression tightening a bit as he looked off to the side._

“ _...about fifteen years, give or take.” he replied, pointedly not answering the previous questions._

_Jon blinked and pressed on, “And future me?”_

_Edward's jaw tightened momentarily, “...the last I saw of you, you were still living with Mark and Eduardo.”_

Dodged dodged the question had been dodged not answered Edward couldn't talk about about Jon's future because in his time Jon was

Jon was-

Jon was dead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so haha, its been a lil while. just gonna get to the heart of the matter. ive obviously lost the motivation to keep my previous momentum going. that does not mean ive lost interest in this story, it does however mean that updates will slow down significatntly, as you have surely already noticed. ill stil update, just... not as stupidly often as before. 
> 
> in other news, due to an overwhelming majority the title will not b changed (interestingly enough tho a lot of you did aparetnly like the would-be title, just not enough apparently)
> 
> comments motivate me to write more!!! also talk to me on tumblr maybe @ lunahras.tumblr.com and also check out my art tag? ive been getting back into drawing again (plus there might be a lil project blog in the works~)


	33. Coming to Terms

“What is he like?”

Thomas almost startled at the sudden question, “...what?”

“Your Red Leader. What is he like?”

Thomas frowned, noticing that Tord was refusing to look in his direction even as he asked, and with some trepidation questioned, “Why?”

Finally a glance in his direction, quick and evasive but something nonetheless.

“...I don't know. I guess...I want to know what I'll turn into.”

“I already told you that.”

“As a _person_.”

That gave Thomas pause, and he took a moment to observe the younger man. He seemed tense, shoulders hunched together. The anger and haughty self-righteousness that seemed so prevalent yesterday seemed faded, making place for a disquieting thoughtfulness and a sense of confusion.

He took another moment to gather his thoughts, “...He's determined and unrelenting. Hard, full of sharp edges. Aggressive but charismatic, he's borderline weaponized it. And... he's a bit petty, but that's nothing new.” he said, giving Tord a bemused sideways glance only to get an elbow between his ribs in return. The corner of his mouth tilted upwards with a huff, “A bit of a handful all around.”

“You sound awfully fond of that handful.”

Thomas huffed amusedly, “Do I?”

Tord arched a dubious eyebrow“...Thomas, what exactly _is_ your relationship?”

“Um,” Thomas hesitated, and that just made Tord's eyes widen slightly in reluctant interest.

“Tell me.” he hardened his tone, but almost regretted when Thomas stiffened under his scrutiny, ramrod straight and coiled tightly, a certain aggression digging its way out and back under his skin.

Nothing happened as he held his breath, however, and with a sigh Thomas slowly and deliberately lowered his shoulders.

“...I'm not entirely sure.”

Tord frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I guess...” Thomas took a deep breath, “In some regards you could call us superior and subordinates, or friends, or lovers, or handler and weapon. The lines blurred years ago.”

Tord blinked once, twice, processing. That was a lot different parts in the relationship spectrum and- wait- “ _Lovers?_ ” he sputtered disbelievingly.

Thomas released a tense chuckle, “Occasionally.” And Tord stared at him, torn between cringing and looking dumbly into the air as he tried to puzzle out how the fuck that was supposed to work.

“You?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“And m- him??”

A small snort, “Yes.”

“... _how_?”

Another amused huff, “It just developed.”

Tord blinked a few more times- “So what kind of leader is he?” And decisively changed the subject, much to Thomas' mirth, which he vaguely attempted to hide behind his hand.

“Decisive. Merciless. Strong.” he went on to describe of Red Leader's more successful exploits.

Tord hummed in acknowledgment, looking down at his lap. It took a few minutes before he broke the silence. “See that's what I don't understand.”

“Hm?” Thomas looked up questioningly, then in mild concern at the troubled frown that marred Tord's face, already weighed down with pain and exhaustion.

“Decisive. Merciless. Strong. That's what I want to become. A great leader of the world.” he gritted his teeth and after a moment of hesitance Thomas lay a hand on his shoulder. “But... I don't think I want to be your Red Leader.” The hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and Tord looked up from his lap and into Thomas' artificial gaze.

Thomas' lips formed a smallest smile, and it was sad, almost mourning, in a way that tugged at his soul, “I didn't think you would.”

Tord needed a moment to tear his gaze away from that smile with a snort, “Obvious from the beginning, huh?”

Thomas' head titled to the side and his smile widened slightly into a small smirk, “Pretty much.”

“Sorry if that disappoints you. Except no, I'm really not.” Tord quipped.

A raised eyebrow, “You seem more disappointed than I am.”

The younger man huffed, “Well, yeah. Purposefully not going down that specific path is probably gonna make my whole life harder!”

Thomas hummed, almost in sync with the almost inaudible electrical humming of his visor. “There's many ways to turn the world around.”

“Yeah and most of them are an irritating process.” Tord would deny he'd pouted in this specific instance to the day he died. They sank into a strange kind of silence, thoughtful yet vacant. A thought crossed Tord's mind. “Hey, the reason you came for me... was it because your time travel device is broken and you thought I might be able to fix it?”

Thomas nodded after a moment, “Partially, yeah.”

Tord's interlocked fingers clenched, then loosened, “...I don't think I can fix it. I've barely dabbled in the area before. It would take me years just to get the theory down.”

Thomas closed his sockets, the electric mimicry on his visor doing the same. He took a deep breath and released it. “It was a long shot anyway.” he finally got out, voice rough.

“For what it's worth... I'm sorry you're stuck here.”

Thomas' hand, still on Tord's shoulder, squeezed a little tighter before releasing it entirely and coming to lay on the stretch of mattress between them.

In the unnatural silence of the room, Tord clearly heard him mutter, “I'm not so sure _I_ am.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet cause i forced this whole thing out and couldn think of anything else for this chapter
> 
>  
> 
> i other news,i got some fanart a while ago for chapter 30 from my dear friend, its right here and it looks absolutely lovely! (not gonna lie, its my desktop background rn) http://fairyvany.tumblr.com/post/176459206974/a-piece-of-fanart-for-chapter-30-of-this-fic-that
> 
> and from dedicated reader lemonlady this wonderful piece!!!! https://www.deviantart.com/goddessofsour/art/popsicle-761098814
> 
> leave a comment on your way out and maybe talk to me on tumblr. also abit of advertising, ive got an Eddsworld Drag Queen AU ask blog at ew-drag-queens.tumblr.com going on if you wanna check it out!


	34. Mirthless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> calm your tits jeez

The first thing he became aware of is warmth. It was all around him, smothering but not suffocating, straddling the line between comfortable and unbearable. Slowly, lethargically, he realized that the warmth was shifting ever so slightly beneath him, expanding and lowering. Breathing.

His eyes finally managed to open and his first thought was 'What's Matt doing in my room?'

Except he hadn't gone to bed last night, or at least not to _his_ bed. No, he'd been held comfortably hostage in the arms of a man who had just decided on his lot in life.

Edd shifted his head upwards to look at the man in question whose chest he was currently using as a pillow. Matthew's face was relaxed in his slumber, with none of the stress and anxiety that usually plagued him during the day. Like this, it was hard to notice his age, his handsome features shining through even with the metal deformities he seemed to resent so much.

Edd's gaze traveled along the line of his metal jaw, took a detour around the shiny artificial eye, and he found it didn't take away from the whole so much as altered it. It was different, and definitely not the epitome of beauty, but if there was anyone who could somehow pull off cyborg it'd be Matt, Edd thought to himself with a faint chuckle.

A tug at his hand made him look forward, across the short, unoccupied expanse of Matthew's sweater-clad chest, to a still sleeping Matt who held Edd's hand in his own loose grip. If Matthew was relaxed Matt was a borderline puddle of a person at the moment, with a hand on each of the them and a knee hooked around one of Edd's legs on top of Matthew's. A borderline puddle of a clingy koala, he mentally corrected himself.

His amusement was really the only thing keeping his embarrassment at bay, his head on top of Matthew, his face so close to Matt's. It was quite the position he found himself in. For a moment he debated just giving in and staying in this position. But no, this really wasn't- he couldn't-

Not yet.

Edd slowly and carefully extricated himself from both their grips, almost falling off the bed in the process. Finally, though, he managed to disentangle himself and stand up beside the bed. Looking down at the two redheads sleeping at the end of the bed, with their legs awkwardly hanging over the edge, he felt something warm and soft swell up inside him, a surprising surge of affection that hadn't been there a week ago.

It was... unexpected-

(Edd's gaze roamed over them, their long lashes and mussed hair and sleeping faces and tangled limbs.)

-but not unwelcome.

For just a moment, he let himself indulge in that feeling, taking the blanket and draping it over the two of them even as he still observed their features. The line of Matthew's throat, the curve of Matt's jaw, the rise of their cheekbones.

(In a second of temporary insanity, Edd understood Matt's narcissism just a little better.)

Then the world went back to normal and he headed out the door of the room, careful not to trip on any of the junk lying around. Warmth lingered in his chest.

Closing the door softly, Edd headed down the hall, through the empty living room (Paul must've gone out for a smoke) and into the kitchen to grab some quick breakfast. As he ate his hastily poured cereal, however, he gaze traveled to the window, or more specifically through he window, to the neighbouring house. His brow furrowed in mild concern, remembering Edward's dangerously furious outburst and consequent exit yesterday. Tom had said that the man had shacked up with Eduardo and his housemates instead, but still...

He couldn't help but worry.

Edward was obviously not in a good place after seeing Tord and, ugh, of course he wasn't. Edd felt like hitting himself, he was so stupid. There were so many issues between Edward and Red Leader, so many underlying problems, but he hadn't given any of that any thought yesterday. No, his mind had been too occupied with Tord to really notice Edward's increasingly withdrawn behaviour.

And yeah, he was worried about Tord – extremely so – and he definitely wanted answers, but that was no excuse to ignore a friend in clear distress, nor to push another into clamming up from accusations. And speaking of friends in distress...

He left his empty bowl in the sink and, with one last look out the window and a reassuring nod to himself, marched purposefully through the house, coming to a stop in front of one particular door.

He knocked, “Tom? You awake?”

Several moments passed until he finally heard and unintelligible groan from the other side, which he took as permission to push the door open, immediately closing it behind himself. Tom was lying in a miserable heap on his bed, partly curled around Susan.

“...what'cha wan'?” Tom managed to articulate, his voice sound muffled through the pillow pressed to half his face.

Edd frowned slightly and went to sit at the edge of the bed, with Tom's back to him, “Are you alright?”

A prolonged pause, then a grumble, “...course I am... same as always.”

“....I'm not buying that.”

“ 'm fine.”

“Look Tom, about yesterday-”

“I'm _fine_.”

“-I didn't consider how anyone would feel-”

“Edd-!”

“-and Thomas really shouldn't have-”

“I SAID I'M FINE!” Tom shot up from his position on the bed to shoot him a baleful glare, but he immediately hunched over, cradling his pounding head in his hands, “Shit...”

Edd's hands hovered worriedly, wanting to physically comfort the man but sure it would probably only make it worse, “Fuck, Tom, I'm sorry-”

“ _Don't_.”

Edd's mouth clicked shut and his hands lowered. He took a quick glance around the room before focusing the nightstand. Right, he could be of some help. He stretched his arm out and he reached the drawer to open it and pull something out, “...have you had a painkiller yet?”

“...no.”

Edd considered the pack in his hand, “Have you eaten?”

“...”

Edd sighed, “I'll get you some cereal.” a grumble of malcontent sounded behind him as he walked towards the door, “Oh shut it, you know I can't cook. It's either cereal or you suffer.” Another grumble, this time of seemingly reluctant assent, and Edd had to restrain a chuckle. He made a quick trip to the kitchen, filling up a bowl with dry cereal (Tom never had much of an appetite for milk on mornings like this). Before he could hurry back, however, the backdoor opened, letting in a scruffy looking Paul. Edd raised an eyebrow, “Good smoke?”

Paul's shoulders hitched a bit but when he turned to look at him he was calm as ever, “Yeah, pretty much.” he looked awkwardly to the side, like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Edd tilted his head, “Something the matter?”

Paul's shoulders tensed even more before h consciously lowered them, “...look, I don't know what's going on between you all. From what I've seen, it's some... pretty heavy shit.” He scratched his chin nervously, “But uh, don't judge your friend too harshly. He's, heh, a bit of an asshole, but he has good intentions and his plans aren't half bad either.”

Edd mulled over his words before giving him a nod of acknowledgment and a wry smile, “Alright. Thanks, Paul.”

Said man seemed relieved, apparently having expected this conversation to go differently, “Oh, uh, yeah sure, I'll just-” he made an aborted motion towards the living room and Edd nodded again, leaving first to head back to Tom's room, bowl of cereal in one hand, glass of water in the other. He wondered if Paul would be staying for a while. Somehow it didn't occur to him at all to just kick him out.

Back in Tom's room, Edd handed him the bowl and set the glass on the nightstand, next to the pack of painkillers. He sat back down on the edge at the foot of the bed as Tom unenthusiastically shoved the dry, bland cereal into his mouth. Edd fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie, trying to get his thoughts in order. A few minutes passed like this until the strong _CLACK_ of a glass being set down on hard wood broke him out of his reverie. The bowl now sat next to the glass on the nightstand, both empty; the pills had been shoved back into the drawer, presumably sans one. He gaze traveled to Tom, who was staring at his hands with a frown that was only in part physical discomfort.

Edd cleared his throat, “...uh, I-”

“Thanks.” Tom droned without looking up. Edd blinked, eyes momentarily flitting to the emptied bowl before they softened the slightest bit.

“Yeah, no problem.”

And awkward silence settled between them. Edd knew he wasn't likely to get much out of his friend, but he refused to just leave without at least trying. Now, if only the silence would stop suffocating his words before they could leave his throat...

Surprisingly, it was Tom who spoke up first. Though then again, maybe it shouldn't be so surprising, they had been good friends for years now, secrets and worries were things they'd used tot ell each other all the time, back when their group had been whole.

“It shouldn't feel like betrayal.” Tom murmured, Edd's concerned frown deepening. He hesitated for a moment before taking the leap.

“Is this about Thomas?”

The furrows on Tom's forehead deepened at the name, “It shouldn't, I legit hated him a few days ago. But it does.” His hands form fists, “He's... been through so fucking much, Edd, and he trusted me with that for some reason. I-” his fists clenched, jaw tensing, “I _let him play on Susan_. And then he just... went after fucking Tord at the first sign of him and turned on me like so much trash!”

His hands were trembling now, although Edd couldn't quite tell whether it was in rage or sorrow. Maybe an unbalanced mix of both. He didn't even think about it before laying a hand on Tom's shoulder, which stilled an tensed up under his touch.

“I'm sorry. It was awful, and I should've stopped the whole thing from escalating.”

Tom released a mirthless laugh, “Guess throwing the first punch didn't really help.” he muttered bitterly.

Edd unsuccessfully tried to suppress a snort, “No, not really. But I think we're all at fault, one way or another.”

Tom slowly let his shoulders sag, “...I guess you're right... still sucks though.”

This time he didn't even try to suppress his dry chuckle, “Sure does.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got some really nice tags on a chapter reblog recently and it really gave me the spark i needed for this chapter so, uh, thank kofi-na i guess
> 
> hey if you wanna talk to me or anything, hit me up on tumblr, I'm always happy to talk or answer questions  
> lunahras.tumblr.com


	35. Misplacement

Edd exited Tom's room, intent on finally going to his own, but as he stepped down the hallway he heard... yelling?

With a confused and slightly alarmed frown he walked towards the guest room as the sounds got louder.

“-at was even the point of all this, Thomas! You could've also just- _left me_ there! Would it have made a difference?!  Jeg gir blanke faen!”

A sharp breath, “Tord-”

“ _What!_ ” THUD

Edd tensed, “Alright, that's it...” he muttered and immediately opened the door to the room. The source of the loud noise became apparent as he took in Tord's hand wrapped forcefully around Thomas' bicep, the other one gripping his shirt to shove him back into the wall. Thomas may have been taller, but in this moment he seemed vulnerable even as Tord's presence seemed to grow beyond him. Edd shook himself, “What the hell are you doing?”

Thomas didn't move, but Tord immediately turned to look at him and, for just a moment, Edd could've sworn he saw genuine hatred in those raging eyes before the flaming haze seemed to fade as Tord kept staring at the man in the doorway.

He seemed almost dazed as he spoke, “What is...” he looked back at Thomas, mute and tense and making himself smaller in a bid for self-preservation, at his hands still clenched around an arm and the fabric of his shirt, and blinked. He blinked again.

He blinked a third time and his eyes widened, letting go of the the older man as if he'd been burned. “ _Shit!_ Faen- What the _fuck_ -!” he stared as Thomas slid down the wall, not making a single sound, and stayed in a crumpled heap on the ground. “I'm... I don't...” His gaze moved to his hands, staring in incomprehension.

Edd took this all in with alarmed focus before stepping inside. He kept an eye on Tord as he carefully approached the blue clad man, kneeling beside him. It was hard to tell with the artificial display, but he seemed to be staring into nothing, limbs limp like a puppet with its strings cut. Edd tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but removed it when it resulted in a full-body flinch. Alright, no unsolicited touching, okay.

“Thomas. Thomas can you hear me?” barely a twitch of the cheek but better than nothing. “I'm going to touch your hand, is that okay?” He waited for a moment but there was no reaction so he abstained from any touch at all. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, “Bloody mother of-”

“What the fuck.”

The two entirely cognizant men turned startled looks to the occupied doorway, where a still hungover Tom was visibly drawing conclusions. His empty gaze quickly roved over the three of them before focusing, razor sharp and burning, on a still frozen Tord. A growl escaped him as his scowl deepened, his countenance not at all alleviated by his raging headache.

“You _fucker_.” Aggression, familiar from another iteration, roiled and writhed under his skin, something dark and heavy settling in his ribcage, right below his heart. Every step forward felt electrifying, charged with a tension that gave him sharp edges. His bones felt like knives, a constant pain, concealed and ready to cut their way out and through anything. Six steps in and he had the absolute bastard cornered, barely managing to redirect his hand to the man's collar instead of his stupidly fragile neck.

“ _What. Did. You. Do?_ ”

“I don't- urk! Let me go, jehova!”

Tom's sockets narrowed dangerously as his grip on the man tightened, and Tord couldn't help but feel like a cornered animal. His hands scrabbled uselessly at Tom's fist and something in the back of his head was screaming bloody murder and he _couldn't think he couldn't-_

A snap, not heard but felt, reverberating through his skull.

An echo.

A misplacement.

Eyes dark, burning with contempt and arrogance, the gray of steel tempered by hellfire and soaked in the blood of a hundred lives.

“ _Let go of me, you fucking worm._ ”

Tom stared, his grip slackening in something almost akin to shock. To what, he wasn't sure.

The burning eyes disappeared in the next second, however, a blink replacing them with something desperate and confused and angry. Familiar in a way that made Tom's own anger rush right back. His fist impacted with Tord's side and he had a moment of deep, dark satisfaction before Tord doubled over as much as he could in this position, wheezing as if he couldn't breathe in properly. Choking and sputtering in agony, eyes glazed over.

His brief confusion was dashed away when he looked down at the spot he'd hit. It was the epicenter of a rapidly growing bloodstain.

Well.

Shit.

 


End file.
